‘Give it up! You little cad!’ he shouted, as he caught hold of the boy’s ragged jacket. ‘Give it up this minute!’
‘I ain’t got nothing,’ whined the boy, trying vainly to wriggle out of Micky’s grasp.
‘Yes, you have. I saw you take it,’ and to Emmeline’s intense surprise, Micky suddenly wrenched her own purse out of the street arab’s dirty hand. Her thoughts had been so much taken up by the fair-tickler that she had not even felt it go.
‘I’d give you a jolly good thrashing if you weren’t such a muff!’ exclaimed Micky.
Emmeline collected her astonished wits with an effort.
‘Well, you are a naughty little boy,’ she remarked severely; ‘it would just serve you right if we gave you up to the police.’
The ragged little urchin began to howl. If he had really been much afraid he would probably have run away, but this did not strike Emmeline, and her heart softened towards him, especially when he sobbed: ‘I ain’t had nothing to eat since yesterday morning.’
Kitty, who was looking on with wide-open pitying eyes, gave Emmeline’s hand a sudden squeeze.
‘May I give him the money I’ve got left?’ she whispered.