"You'll have to take her to the station-house," said the old lady.
"Oh, no, Mr. Policeman! I'm not to be taken up,—indeed, I'm not," said Bessie. "I wasn't naughty, and mamma wont say so, only Flossy yan away, and the colonel wasn't in his yoom, and I can't find my street."
"Poor baby!" said the policeman, as he felt her trembling in his arms. "Nobody shall hurt you, my child; but if your people miss you, they will send up to the station, and if I take you there, they will find you right off. You can't tell where your mamma lives, hey?"
"I sha'n't talk about my mamma," said Bessie; "everybody says naughty things about her; but I want to go to her, and please find Flossy, Mr. Policeman."
"Who is Flossy?" asked he.
"He's her dog, I guess," said a boy who stood by. "Four big fellows ran away with him. I se'ed 'em. They cut up the alley, and down by the back lots. I guess you must cotch 'em in a hurry, or see no more of the pup."
"Don't you believe that," said the policeman, as Bessie's tears and sobs came faster than ever. "We'll find him for you one of these days; but now I must see you safe;" and he moved on with the little girl in his arms.
"Do you think some one will come and find me pretty soon?" she asked.
"To be sure they will. Have you a papa?"