There was once upon a time a little village girl, the prettiest ever seen or known, of whom her mother was dotingly fond. Her grandmother was even fonder of her still, and had a little red hood made for the child, which suited her so well, that wherever she went, she was known by the name of Little Red Riding-Hood.,
“It was good of you,” he said as gravely as the Indian had spoken. “But you can help me further perhaps.”,
And all at once the truth smote him: he ought not to have done this; he had known all the time that he ought not, and yet—he had done it..
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