"I was down under the stairs for ever so long," said Ailie feebly, letting her head drop on Job Kippis's arm. "An' I was so hungry—and I went out in the streets—"
"And nobody gave you nothin'?" asked Lettie, pityingly.
"Nobody—nothin'," echoed Ailie.
"What made ye hide?" asked Hor.
Ailie looked confused, then suddenly sat up, tears filling her eyes.
"It was the work'us. Oh, don't take me to the work'us! Oh, please don't let them!" And, turning towards Job, as if for protection, she clung to him with all her strength, catching her breath in helpless sobs. "Oh, don't, please. I don't want to go to the work'us."
"Nobody 'll take ye nowhere to-night, deary," said Job, delighted at the confidence she showed in him.
"And not to-morrow neither!" entreated Ailie, squeezing his hand with both hers in terror. "Oh, don't! Mother 'll come back, an' I don't want to go away! Oh, please!"
"Well, well, we'll do all we can," said Job, completely melted; "poor little starved morsel as ye are. Maybe I can make up a bed for you to-night in my closet yonder, and ye'll sleep there as snug as a bird in a nest—eh? Will that do?"
Ailie's head went back on his arm, and Job would not put her down.