"Won't they give you anything to eat?" asked the other child, gravely.
"There's nobody. Father's dead, an' mother—an' mother—"
"Is your mother dead too?"
"They've put her in jail."
"Jail! Is that prison? Why she must be very wicked if they put her there," said the little girl. "What did she do?"
The shame of her mother's disgrace came over Ailie, as she noted the little girl's dainty boots draw back a pace.
"Mother was starvin', an' father dyin' for want; an' she took-she took a loaf," said Ailie.
"That was stealing," said the little girl decisively. "It's very wicked indeed to steal, and I don't wonder they put her in jail. Everybody's punished that steals, you know. But who takes care of you?"
"What's the matter?" she repeated. "Have you had a beating?"