It was the drunken creature, who, unnoticed by any of them, had approached the spot where the dead child lay. She darted forward, crying out, whilst she brandished the bottle—
"I'll wake him, never fear; like I've done many a time before, I warrant ye!"
Fortunately the policeman saw her in time to prevent her doing further mischief, or even touching the boy, for, laying his firm grasp upon her arm, he exclaimed authoritatively—
"Come, none of this, my good woman. I must take you to Bow Street, to answer the charge of killing that poor little chap."
Then ensued a scene too terrible to describe. The wretched woman was taken away from the place, shrieking and swearing, leaving her dead child to be tended by strangers, kinder far than she had ever been.
CHAPTER X.
NORA.
A drizzling rain kept falling the day on which little Jimmy was to be laid in his narrow home. They had found beneath his ragged jacket a little packet, carefully tied with a piece of thread, and on opening it, something dried and shrivelled fell to the ground. It was the bunch of violets, now withered, Pollie's first gift to him—the only gift he had ever received, and which came fraught with such peace to him. With tender pity Mrs. Turner refolded the tiny packet, and placed the faded flowers again where they had been so carefully treasured.