Mrs. Therlock sighed, but merely said: "Did you have a nice walk to-day?"
"I suppose it was," said Josie. "I'm tired of the streets. I do wish we could be in the country. Oh, I saw such a poor ragged little girl to-day."
"Where was she?" asked Leveson, thinking what numbers of such little ones were to be seen in all directions.
"Among the shops," said Josie vaguely. "And she was starving."
"How do you know, dear?" asked Mrs. Therlock.
"Why, she told me! I had run on from nurse, and she told me."
"But, my dear Josie, I cannot have you leave nurse when you are out walking in the streets," said Mrs. Therlock, with a nervous flush. "You don't know what might happen to you. I must speak to nurse. What could she have been thinking of?"
"She was quite near," said Josie. "But I saw the little girl crying, and I asked her what was the matter, and she said she was starving, and I'm sure she looked, oh, so hungry! Her frock was all rags, and not at all clean, and her arms were as thin—as thin as sticks."
"What was she like?" asked Mrs. Therlock, seeming anxious still.
"Why, she was like that, mamma—as thin as thin could be, and not a bit of colour in her face, and such great black eyes, they almost frightened me. She told me her father was dead, and her mother was in prison—jail, I mean, but that's the same thing, isn't it?—was in jail for stealing a loaf. She had stolen it because she was hungry, but I told the little girl how wicked it was to steal, and she did look so ashamed, you can't think. I am sure she wouldn't steal, though nurse was so unkind, and said right before her that she would follow her mother to jail. I'm sure the little girl won't, for she looked as honest as honest could be; and I hadn't a penny in my pocket, and I wanted her to come here for my other penny, but nurse said she wasn't to come. Should you have minded, mother?"