"No, dear."
"I was 'fraid so, and I's awsul hundry."
"An' wouldn't ye go wid me av Oi'd take ye where ye'd get plinty to ate?" asked the Irish lad.
"Him tome, too?" She held out her hands to Frank.
"An' wouldn't ye go av he didn't come?"
"I dess not," she said. "I like you pitty well; but I kinder like him better. Him goin' to find my mamma. I dess him dit me somefin to eat."
Frank caught her up in his arms.
"Yes, dear," he laughed, his heart swelling with a feeling that convinced him he would lay down his life in defense of her, if needs be. "I will find you something to eat as soon as possible, and I will take you to your mother."
"Dat's all wight. I ain't doin' to cwy. You don't like little dirls we'en they cwy, does you?"
"In your case, I do not think crying would change my feelings. Little girls have to cry sometimes."