"Ask her where she lives!"
Mrs. Gray looked around, and saw that the pale face was bowed still, and that tears were pouring down it like rain. She leaned forward and whispered—
"Do you live in the old place yet?"
"No," was the broken answer, "I could not stay there alone, if the rent were paid. As it is they would not let me, I suppose."
"Where is your home, then? Where is your family?" said the lady, in her gentle way.
"They are in prison; my home is the street!"
"But where do you sleep?"
"Nowhere, I have not wanted to sleep since they took him!" was the sad reply. "I walk up and down all night; it is a little chilly sometimes, but a great deal better than sitting alone to think."
"She will go home with me," said Mrs. Gray, addressing her customer, and drawing one hand across her eyes, for their soft brown was becoming misty. "Of course she will—I don't know you, ma'am, but somehow it seems as if you would like to help this poor, unfortunate woman. She needs friends, and has got one, at any rate, but the more the better!"