This time he came to where she sat, and stopped.
“Are you going to sit here all day, little girl?” he asked.
She did not answer.
“Your mother will be looking for you. You’d better run home now, like a good girl. Where do you live, anyway?”
He bent down and lifted her chin, so she had to look up at him.
“Where do you live, miss? Tell us now, that’s a good girl.”
“I don’t know.” The child spoke slowly, half afraid.
“O come now, of course you know, a big girl like you ought to know. What’s the name of the street?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ah, you’re only afraid of me. Don’t be afraid of Jim Cunneen now. I’ve a little girl at home just about your age.”