There's the other baby, crying, and I don't know where Pomona is.

Just you mind him a minute, please!" and out she ran.
I looked out of the window.

The horse still stood harnessed to the carriage, as I had left him.

I saw Pat's old shawl lying in a corner.
I seized it, and rolling him in it, new clothes and all, I hurried down-stairs, climbed into the carriage, hastily disposed Pat in my lap, and turned the horse.

The demeanor of the youngster was very different from what it was when I first took him in my lap to drive away with him.
There was no confiding twinkle in his eye, no contented munching of his little fists.