"Limpy leg! Limpy leg!" she cried shrilly. "Limpy leg, aint you ugly!" At this the cripple began to cry.
"Stop that!" called out Nelson. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. This little girl can't help being a cripple. Perhaps some day you'll be a cripple yourself, and then you won't want anybody to make fun of you." And at this the big girl fell back abashed.
"She always does that," said the cripple. "She's awful mean."
Nelson asked the girl where Billy Darnley lived, and the girl pointed out the rooms. Soon the newsboy was knocking on one of the doors to the apartment.
"Come in," said a rough voice, and Nelson entered, to find himself confronted by a burly man slightly the worse for the rum he had been drinking.
"Is this where Billy Darnley lives?" he asked.
"I'm Billy Darnley," answered the man.
"I mean Billy Darnley, the newsboy."
"That's my son. He lives here, but he aint here now. He's out selling papers."