“You’re mighty scrup’lous!” returned the policeman. “You don’t mind takin’ a ’ole ’ouse an’ garding, but you wouldn’ think o’ takin’ a blanket!—Oh, no! Honest boy you are!”
He turned sharp round, and caught Tommy taking a vigorous sight at him. Tommy, courageous as a lion behind anybody’s back, dropped on the rug sitting.
“We’ve done the house no harm,” said Clare, “and I will not take the blanket. It would be stealing!”
“Then I will take it, and be accountable for it,” rejoined the man. “I hope that will satisfy you!”
“Certainly,” answered Clare. “You are a policeman, and that makes it all right.”
“Rouse up then, and come along. I want to get home.”
“Please, sir, wouldn’t it do in the morning?” pleaded Clare. “I’ve no work now, and could easily go then. That way we should all have a sleep.”
“My eye ain’t green enough,” replied the policeman. “Look sharp!”
Clare said no more, but went to the baby. With sinking but courageous heart, he wrapped her closer in her blanket, and took her in his arms. He could not help her crying, but she did not scream. Indeed she never really screamed; she was not strong enough to scream.
“Get along,” said the policeman.