"You'll help me to find my fath-er and moth-er, won't you?" she cried.
"Cer-tainly!"
"We were starting just as you came," said the Man-Who-Makes-Faces.
"Well, let's be off!" His whistle hung by a thin chain from a button-hole of his coat. He swung it to his lips, Toot! Toot! It was a cheery blast.
The next moment, coming, as it were, on the heels of her sudden good fortune, Gwendolyn closed her right hand and found herself possessed of a bag of candy!—red-and-white stick-candy of the variety that she had often seen selling at street corners (out of show-cases that went on wheels). More than once she had longed, and in vain, to stop at one of these show-cases and purchase. Now she suddenly remembered having done so with a high hand. The sticks were striped spirally. Boldly she produced one and fell to sucking it, making more noise with her sucking than ever the strict proprieties of the nursery permitted.
Then, candy in hand, and with the little old gentleman on her right, the Policeman on her left, and Jane trailing behind, doing a one-two-three-and-point, she set forward gayly along the wide, curving road.
CHAPTER XI
As she trotted along, pulling with great relish at a candy-stick, she glanced down at the Policeman every now and then—and glowed with pride. On some few well-remembered occasions her chauffeur had condescended to hold a short conversation with her; had even permitted her to sound the clarion of the limousine, with its bright, piercing tones. All of which had been keenly gratifying. But here she was, actually conversing with an Officer in full uniform! And on terms of perfect equality!
She proffered him the bag of spiral sweets.