"What shall we do with her?" inquired the Recorder, sotto voce, of a brother magistrate who appeared to be associated with him on the bench.
"Send her to the Refuge," replied the other, in the same tone.
"What are they consulting about?" asked Old Hurricane, whose ears were not of the best.
"They are talking of sending her to the Refuge," answered a bystander.
"Refuge? Is there a refuge for destitute children in New York? Then Babylon is not so bad as I thought it. What is this Refuge?"
"It is a prison where juvenile delinquents are trained to habits of——"
"A prison! Send her to a prison? Never!" burst forth Old Hurricane, rising and marching up to the Recorder; he stood, hat in hand, before him and said:
"Your honor, if a proper legal guardian appears to claim this young person and holds himself in all respects responsible for her, may she not be at once delivered into his hands?"
"Assuredly," answered the magistrate, with the manner of one glad to be rid of the charge.