Down he dropped in the inner point of the triangular floor and almost before his head had made itself a pillow of his arm he was sound asleep. Billy flung himself beside his mate and, also, slept; and though Glory intended to keep her eyes wide open “till grandpa comes,” she placed herself near them and rested her own tired head on Billy’s shoulder, and, presently, followed their example.
Half an hour later, the Lane policeman sauntered by, glanced into the dim interior, and saw the group of indistinct forms huddled together in dreamless slumber on their bed of bare boards. Then he softly closed the door upon them, murmuring in pity, “Poor little chummies! Life’s goin’ to be as hard for ’em as the floor they lie on. But the Lane’d seem darker ’n ’tis if they wasn’t in it.”
CHAPTER VII
A Guardian Angel
City newsboys are early astir, and the shadows had but begun to lift themselves from Elbow Lane when Billy punched Nick in the ribs to rouse him and, with finger on lip, pointed to Glory still asleep.
The very poor pity the poor, and with a chivalric kindness which would have done credit to better reared lads, these two waifs of the streets stole softly from the littlest house without waking its small mistress.
When they were out upon the sidewalk, Billy shook his head and whispered, as if even there he might disturb her, “Poor little kid! He ain’t never comin’ back, sure! An’ me an’ you ’s got the job o’ lookin’ after her, same ’s he’d a liked. He was good to me, the cap’n was. An’ I’m thinkin’ Meg-Laundress’s ’ll be the best place to stow her. Hey?”
“Meg can’t. She’s chuck full. They ain’t a corner o’ her room but what’s slep’ in, an’ you know it,” responded Nick, hitching his buttonless knickers a trifle higher beneath the string-waistband which kept them in place.