"Little odd jobs in general, eh?"
"Yes, sir, anything that I can turn my hand to and get to do."
"Boy—girl, I should say—what tempted you to put yourself into male attire?"
"Sir?"
"In boy's clothes, then?"
"Oh, yes; want, sir—and—and—danger, sir!" cried the little prisoner, putting her hands to a face crimson with blushes and for the first time since her arrest upon the eve of sobbing.
"Oh—oh—oh!" groaned Old Hurricane from his chair.
"Want? Danger? How is that?" continued the clerk.
"Your honor mightn't like to know."
"By all means! It is, in fact, necessary that you should give an account of yourself," said the clerk.