“I will try to be good, ma’am,” said Clare simply. “But I wish I knew what they put me in prison for!”
“What, indeed, my lamb!” she returned; and her eyes flashed with indignation under the cornice of her white hair. “They’ll be put in prison one day themselves that did it!”
“Oh, I don’t mind!” said Clare. “I don’t want them to be punished. You see I’m only waiting!”
“What are you waiting for, sonny?” asked the old woman.
“I don’t exactly know—though I know better than what I was put in prison for. Nobody ever told me anything, but I’m always waiting for something.”
“The something will come, child. You will have what you want! Only go on as you’re doing, and you’ll be a great man one day.”
“I don’t want to be a great man,” answered Clare; “I’m only waiting till what is coming does come.”
The woman cast down her eyes, and seemed lost in thought. Clare dandled the baby gently in his arms, and talked loving nonsense to her.
“Well,” said the old woman, raising at length her eyes, with a look of reverence in them, to Clare’s, “I can’t help you, and you want no help of mine. I’ve got no money, but—”
“I’ve got plenty of money, ma’am,” interrupted Clare. “I’ve got a whole shilling in my pocket!”