But the little girl could tell him no more, so he led her along the street toward the police station.
Before they had gone very far, they passed a baker’s shop.
In the window were rolls, and cookies, and buns, and little cakes with jam and frosting on them.
The smell of fresh bread came through the door.
“What is the matter, miss?” The man looked down, as Clematis stood still before the window.
She was looking through the glass, at the rolls, and cakes, and cookies.
“I don’t want to stay here if you are going to throw my cat away”
The policeman smelled the fresh bread, and it made him hungry.