“Not much news in such a tiny paper!” thought Tiny, watching the fountain splash. “Some day I’ll buy one to see what it says.”
Suddenly she realized it was getting dark; people passed by her and went into the houses. She felt very lonely and a little frightened. “Oh, dear,” she thought, “I do wonder where I’ll sleep to-night? I wonder if it’s against the law to sleep on the park benches?” She went over and sat down on one. “I guess I’ll try sleeping here, anyhow.”
She was just going to stretch out, when she saw a policeman coming toward her just as fast as he could walk.
“Come, come!” he said. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you around here before! What’s your name? Where do you live?”
“Please, Mr. Policeman”—Tiny tried to keep her voice from shaking—“my name is Tiny and I’m lost.”
“Tiny! Tiny! Tiny what? What’s your other name?”
“They call me ‘Tiny girl’,” said Tiny.
“Tiny Girl!” grunted the policeman. “Girl! I’ve never heard of a Mr. Girl or a Mrs. Girl around here! Oh, I know—I understand now—you’ve run away from home—that’s what you’ve done!”
“Oh, no, sir,” began Tiny, but the policeman took her hand, and walked toward the town hall.
“You’ll have to sleep over there to-night,” said he, pointing to the building, “in care of the police matron; and in the morning we’ll see what we can find out. Children that run away we always put in the lock-up.”