"Oh, you must have!" exclaimed Richard. "Come, out with it."
But the little ragged figure only began to cry again, harder than ever.
"Come, tell me; I won't have you arrested," urged Richard.
"Oh, thank you, mister! It would kill dad to know I'd been stealin'.
I told him I made the money sellin' papers."
"That was a lie," said Richard sternly.
"I know it, mister, but I couldn't help it. It was better than tellin' him I'd been stealin'. I wouldn't have taken yer money only I was afraid he'd die if he didn't have de doctor and de medicine, so help—"
"There, don't swear," interrupted Richard. "If you were so hard up you should have asked me for help. I would have given you something."
"I would have asked, only most of de people laughs at me and tells me to clear out, and they think I'm lyin' when I say dad's sick, and say they guess he must drink de money up, which is a lie itself, 'cause dad don't drink a drop; he's got pneumony, so de doctor says, and he's coughin' all de time."
"Is your mother home?"
"Ain't got no mother; she died when I was a kid."