"I say, what made you run away from that woman in the Market Square?" he asked, curiously. "I was there and saw you."
"I ran away because I was afraid she would beat me," she exclaimed; "I am afraid of her. She's rough, and hits me about—boxes my ears, and—oh, she serves me cruelly bad, that she does!"
"What a shame!" exclaimed Tom, indignantly. "She isn't your mother, is she?"
"Oh, no, no! She's no relation either! She's Mrs. Sordello—Max Sordello's a lion-trainer, and she's his wife. I'd run away from them altogether if I only knew where to go. I can't tell you how unkindly they treat me, and now—and now—' the child's voice broke with a sob.
"Oh, you poor little girl!" cried Peter. "What are you called?"
"Grace Lee," she replied.
"Haven't you a mother or a father?" inquired Tom.
"No," she said, sadly, "not now. Mother died so long ago that I can't remember her, and father—he died last year." Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, but she went on: "He worked for a showman with a steam roundabout; he used to take the money, but he had an accident—fell off the roundabout, and died in hospital. Since then I've lived with the Sordellos. They were kind at first, but now—oh, I'm so frightened!" She paused, shuddering. "And I'm so hungry!" she added.
"Hungry?" cried Peter. "Oh, wait I will get you something to eat in a minute!" And he hurried off towards the house.
"He's blind," Tom said, nodding at Peter's retreating figure; "you wouldn't guess it, would you?"