“Well, you see, Rob,” began the girl, “mother has been so poorly for a week that I have neglected business. But to-day, seeing we had nothing in the house to eat and no money, I had to start out in earnest. I seemed pretty lucky at once, for inside of an hour I met a fine, old gent, who gave me ten cents to carry his portmanteau three squares and——”
“The lazy bones!” interjected Deacon Cornhill. “Do you mean to say, miss, the man let you carry his satchel alone?”
“I was glad to have him, sir, for it meant dinner for poor mother, and medicine, too.”
“Isn’t your father living?”
“No, sir. He died twelve years ago. And mother has been ill for four years.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Sell flowers, papers, or do anything that will bring me a few cents. Sometimes I run errands or carry gentlemen’s bundles.”
The kind-hearted deacon groaned, while she resumed:
“After I had parted with the old gent I found a flashily dressed young man, who wanted me to run an errand for him, and when I got back he gave me a silver quarter. It seemed so much for him to pay for so little work that I wanted him to take a part of it back, and he took my ten-cent piece. From that time until noon I earned only three cents; but, with my quarter, I felt quite well pleased. So I thought to buy something real nice for mother and go home. When I come to pay for the rolls and cake the man said the money was bad. I could not believe it, and while I tried to explain to him how I got it, he called in the police, when I was taken to the recorder’s court and kept there until you found me.”
“The sinfulness of this sinful city!” exclaimed the deacon. “And to think they were going to take you to the workshop.”