"My mother ain't been to see me," whined Looney, with unrestrained sobs; "and Clem says 'e's wrote to tell 'er she'd best not come no more, 'cos I'm so bad."
His mother had been for years at the school herself, and after serving in a brief series of situations, had calculated the profit and loss, and gone on the streets.
"Mine didn't come neither," said Alfred. "Matron says they're all like that. But never you mind, 'ere's a nice sweet for you instead."
He took the sweet out of his own mouth. Looney received it cautiously, and his great watery eyes gazed at Alfred with the awe of a biologist who watches a new law of nature at work.
Next day after dinner Lizzie and Alfred met in the hall, as brothers and sisters were allowed to meet for an hour on Sundays. They sat side by side with their backs to the long tablecloths left on for tea.
"She never come," said Alfred after the growing shyness of meeting had begun to pass off.
"You don't know what I've got!" she answered, holding up her clenched fist.
"I s'pose she won't never come no more," said Alfred.
"Look!" she answered, opening her fingers and disclosing a damp penny, the bribe of one of the nurses.
"Matron says she's cruel, and 'as forgot about us, same as they all do," said Alfred.