Amidst quite a display of enthusiasm the woman entered the police station, accompanied by the little girl with the golden curls, who was clapping her small hands with glee. She did not seem to be aware that several of the dolls she had been at the trouble to convey from the Emporium had fallen out of her pockets on to the pavement.
“Wot’s up, Bill?” said a male street-person, with a filthy scarf round his neck, to one whose neck was encased less adequately in only the band of his shirt.
“Bin pinching one o’ the unemployed,” said his companion, with an admirable assumption of the air of a Christian martyr.
VI
Within the precincts of the police station the boy, still bewildered yet not afraid, was brought to stand in a gloomy room with iron bars across the windows. In this a bald-headed man sat at a desk writing.
“Pearson,” said the bald-headed man to a police constable who wore no helmet, “fetch one o’ them velvet cheers out o’ the horfis for her ladyship.”
The bald-headed man spoke in a very dictatorial manner, without looking up from his writing. Upon the entrance of the woman he rose majestically.
“There’ll be a cheer for you in a minute, my lady,” he said, addressing the woman as though it gave him great pleasure to do so. “Had we knowed you was coming we’d ’a had it dusted.”
“It is of no consequence,” said the woman, as if she meant it.
By this time her tone had acquired a note of sweetness. She had seemed to be mollified by the manner in which her progress had stirred the great heart of the public.