“Oh, sonny, you’re a long way from Arch Street. Keep straight on until you come to Taylor, then ask again.”
Here was a bakery with a pleasant, motherly woman. He went in.
“Please ma’am, would you give me a bun? I’m lost and I can’t find my way back to Arch Street.”
“You poor child! Yes, and here’s a cake, beside. Arch Street isn’t far from the eastern end of the park. Sit and get rested. Who’s your father?”
“Mr. John Borden.”
The woman shook her head.
“Thank you, very much.” Jack rose.
“You go straight down three blocks. Then ask a policeman. Oh, I guess you’ll get home safely.” 50
Jack walked his three blocks. Then there was a low rumble of thunder. Oh, dear! He began to cry. Was there never a policeman!
“What’s the matter bub?” asked a kindly voice.