"Running and flying," corrected the Policeman; "—running and flying to me." (He said it proudly.) "The squirrels and the robin-redbreasts, and the sparrows, all follow me here from the Park of a night, knowing I protect 'em."
"Oh?" murmured Gwendolyn. "You protect 'em?" She looked sidewise at Jane, reflecting that the nurse had given him quite another character.
"Yes; and I protect old, old people."
"Huh!" snorted the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "You protect old people, eh? Well, how about old organ-grinders?"
"You ought to know," answered the Officer promptly. "I guess you didn't give me that black eye for nothing."
Whereat the little old gentleman suddenly subsided into silence.
"Yes, I protect old people," reiterated the other, "and the blind, of course, and the trees and the flowers and the fountains. Also, the statues. There's the General, for instance. If I didn't watch out, folks would scribble on him with chalk."
Gwendolyn assented. Once more she was beginning to have belief in him.
"Then," he resumed, "I look after the children, so that—"
She started. The children!—he? "But," she interrupted, "Jane's always told me that you grab little boys and girls and carry 'em off." Then, fairly shook at her own boldness.