With that, the irate vendor snatched Bonny from the stand and dropped her upon the floor beyond it; where, terrified both by her fall and this rough treatment, she set up such a wail that further scolding was prevented. More than that, instead of being properly abashed by her own carelessness, Glory was far more concerned that Bonny’s beautiful coat was stained and ruined and its owner’s heart so grieved. Down she dropped beside her “Guardian,” showering kisses upon her, and comforting her so tenderly that the baby forgot her fear and began to lick the sticky fluid, which had filled the “drops,” from her sleeve that it had smeared.
This restored quiet so that the vender could demand payment for the damage she had swiftly estimated, and she thrust her hand toward the pair on the floor, saying, “Hand me over a dollar, and be quick about it! Ought to be more, seein’s it’ll take me half a day to straighten up and—”
“A dollar! Why–why, I never had so much in my hull life! an’ not a single cent now. Yes–they’s a quarter to home, ’t I forgot an’ left in the bag, that Nick Dodd give me–but–a dollar!” gasped poor Glory, as frightened as surprised. Just then, too, a wharf policeman drew near and stopped to learn what was amiss. He did not look like the jolly officer of Elbow Lane and the stand-woman seemed sure of his sympathy as she rapidly related her side of the story.
He listened in silence, and visions of patrol wagons, and the police stations where arrested persons were confined, rose before poor Glory’s fancy, while with frantic tenderness she hugged Bonny Angel so close that the little one protested and wriggled herself free. But no sooner was she upon her feet than the child became her own best plea for pardon. Reaching her arms upward to be lifted, she began a delighted examination of the brass buttons on the man’s blue coat; and, because he had babies of his own, it seemed the natural thing for him to do to take her up as she desired.
“Oh, but you mustn’t, you dastn’t carry her away! She hain’t done a thing, only tumbled off my shoulder! ’Twas me done it, not holdin’ her tight enough! An’ she can’t be ’rested, she can’t! How can she, when she’s a ‘Guardian Angel’? Give her back–give her back!”
In her distress, Take-a-Stitch herself laid violent hands upon the blue sleeves which so strongly enfolded her darling and would have wrested them apart had strength sufficed. As it was, the helmeted officer looked calmly down upon her anguished face and quietly whistled.
“Keep cool, sissy, keep cool. Wait till I hear your side the business before you talk of arrests. Besides, this baby! Why, she’s the prettiest little innocent I’ve seen in a week’s beat,” said the rough voice, and now regarding the lips through which it issued, the young “Elbower” perceived that they were no longer stern but actually smiling.
Then she did talk; not only of this last adventure but, encouraged by his close attention, of all the events of her past life. Out it came, the whole story; Glory’s love of the Lane and its people, her grandfather’s disappearance, the coming of Bonny Angel, “sent to take his place an’ help to find him,” her present search and her honest regret for the injury to this old woman’s wares.
“’Cause I know how ’tis myself. Onct a lady fell into my goober basket an’ smashed ’em so ’t I was heart-broke. An’ if ever–ever in this world I can earn a hull dollar I’ll come right straight back here an’ pay it. Sure, sure, sure.”
Now, during all this relation, though the policeman’s face seemed to soften and grow more like that of his brother-officer of Elbow Lane, it did not grow less grave. Indeed, a great perplexity came into his eyes and he appeared to be far more interested in the fate of Bonny Angel than in the voluble interruptions of Apple Kate. When Glory paused, out of breath and with no more to tell, he set the little one down and took out his note-book. Having made some entries there, he exchanged a few low-spoken words with the vender and these appeared to quiet her wrath and silence her demands. Indeed, their influence was so powerful that she selected a pile of the broken cakes, put them into a paper bag, and offered them to Take-a-Stitch, saying: