“Now here, honey, don’t you start crying again! You can do all the crying you want by and by. But now I want you to listen to me. What call have you got to go on with them show people?”
“What else can I do, ma’am? They’re all the people I know.”
“What do you do in the show?”
“Not much now since my pony died. I used to ride him, ma’am. Now I sell things—peanuts or pictures or songs or anything.”
A wave of scarlet went over her face, and Jim knew she hated being with the show and he wondered why. He would have liked to do that kind of thing very well.
“Tell me—I won’t tell no one—be they good to you?” asked ma.
The girl turned her tear-darkened eyes on her.
“Oh, I don’t know—I don’t know!” she broke out. “Oh, I’m so tired! What shall I do? What shall I do?”
Ma McBirney stooped down and put both arms tight about the girl’s shaking form.
“I reckon you’d better stay right here with me,” she said. “I’m needing a little girl terrible; and you’ve lost your ma. You stay right here with me. What do you say to that?”