The policeman looked down not unkindly now, at the little wayfarer. There was something piteous, I dare say. He looked a grave, thoughtful man, of more than fifty, and he put his hand on the child’s shoulder.
“Ye see, boy, that was no place to sleep in.”
“No, sir, I’ll never do it again, sir, please.”
“You’re cold; you’d get pains in your bones.”
“I’ll not any more, sir, please.”
“Come with me, my boy, it’s only a step.”
He brought the boy into his house down the lane close by.
“There’s a fire. You warm yourself. There’s my little one in fever, so you can’t stop long. Sit down, child, and warm yourself.”
He gave him a drink of hot milk and a piece of bread.
“You don’t get up, you know; there’s no need,” he added.