Nan's unspoken question was not completed, for out of the alley darted a street urchin of about Inez's age, who snatched the bag of cakes out of the girl's hand and ran, shrieking, back into the dark alley.
"Oh! the rascal!" gasped the taller of the two girls.
The other burst into tears—and they were very real tears, too! She leaned against the bakery wall, with her arm across her eyes, and sobbed.
"Oh, Marie, don't!" begged the other, with real concern. "Suppose somebody sees you!"
"I don't care if they do. And I hate that name,—Marie!" choked the crying girl, desperately. "I won't answer to it an—any more—so now! I want my own na—name."
"Oh, dear, Celia! don't be a baby."
"I—I don't care if I am a baby. I'm hun—hun—hungry."
"Well, we'll buy some more cakes."
"You can't—you shouldn't," sobbed the other, weakly. "I haven't any more money at all, and you have less than a dollar."
Nan had heard enough. She did not care what these girls thought of her; they should not escape. She planted herself right before the two startled strangers and cried: