He decided to leave the stage, and inquire in some shop near by where he was, and then, by examining his map, ascertain the most direct course to his hotel.
As he reached the sidewalk, a little girl of ten years, apparently, with a thin, sad face, fixed her eyes upon him. She said nothing, but there was a mute appeal in her look which Frank, who was by nature compassionate, could not resist.
"What is the matter, little girl?" he asked.
"Mother is sick, and we have nothing to eat," answered the little girl, sorrowfully.
"Have you no father?"
"He has gone away."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Has your mother been sick long?"
"She made herself sick working so hard to buy us bread."