"What had the little girl done to anger Mrs. Sordello? You have not found out that?"
"No, Father; that is, Max Sordello said she had disobeyed and defied his wife, but I believe he was telling lies!"
Mr. Burford looked doubtful. "You cannot prove that," he said. "If he spoke the truth, the child deserved punishment, I dare say, though not such harsh treatment as she received—nothing would justify that. If a policeman had been in your position he would no doubt have interfered and summoned the woman for using bad language, but if you told a policeman all you've told me you couldn't prove it, and—well, in short, you can't do anything in the matter, my boy."
"It's dreadful to think such a little girl should be treated so badly!" Tom cried in indignant accents, "a little girl no bigger than our Nellie! I am sure Max Sordello and his wife are cruel to her! I believe they are wicked people! Oh, Father, do wait a minute and see what is being pasted on that hoarding; I believe it's a bill about the menagerie!"
They had reached a large hoarding surrounding an unfinished building, upon which a bill-sticker was busily at work. He was standing on a short ladder, and glanced down with a smile as Tom and Mr. Burford stopped to watch him, revealing a good-natured, rubicund face.
"This is something in your line, I guess, young gentleman," he remarked, addressing Tom, whilst he indicated a flaring poster on which was represented a lion jumping through a hoop. "All boys love a wild-beast show, I know," he continued, "and you may take my word for it that 'Dumbell's World-famed Menagerie' is well worth seeing."
"You have seen it, then, I suppose?" said Mr. Burford.
The bill-sticker nodded assent. "At Birmingham last year," he replied; "this is the first time it's been here. It's the best show of wild animals on tour. The chief attraction, of course, is the performing lions—as gentle as lambs, or—" nodding his head meaningly— "whipped curs; their trainer, Max Sordello, has them well in hand, anyway. They say he trains them by kindness, but who's to know, eh?"
He pasted on another bill, one representing a lion with a little girl clad in a scarlet frock and wearing a wreath of flowers standing beside him, her arms around his neck, her face hidden in his tawny mane, and then surveyed it gravely. "I shouldn't like my little gell to do that," he said, "no, not for a thousand pounds! See what's printed under that bill? 'Una and the lion.'"
"Is the little girl really called Una?" asked Tom eagerly.