“Well, a man gets queer notions in his head sometimes, and when I saw the face of that gal I was hit by a queer one. I tried to talk with her, but she got skeered. I want to know what her name is. Won’t you tell me your name, little gal?”
Nell hesitated, trembling slightly. Her brother had his arm about her now, and was speaking reassuring words to her.
“Why should she tell you her name?” demanded Frank, a strange feeling of apprehension assailing him.
“I’m not doin’ my business with you!” grated the man. “I’ll look after you some other time.”
“You may have to do some business with me now, for I am the friend and protector of this boy and girl.”
“Oh, you are? Well, who made ye so? You’re not old enough to be their guardian.”
“I am old enough to look out for them, and I shall see that they come to no harm.”
“You’re a pretty swift young chap for a common engine wiper. Soon as you get out from work at night you swell round in good clothes, as if you was the son of a millionaire. Where do ye get all your money to do that?”
“That is none of your business!” returned Merry, warmly.
“Ain’t, eh? Well, I reckon I can tell ye. You sponge it out of this boy and gal you are protectin’. They must pick up lots of money on the street, and you get it.”