"Is she your child?"
"Yes."
"Is that true?" asked the policeman, not particularly prepossessed in Martin's favor by his personal appearance, his face being unusually inflamed by his morning potations. His question was of course directed to Rose.
"No, I aint his child now," said Rose. "Rufie has the care of me."
"And who is Rufie?"
"He is my brother."
"He's a young rascal," said Martin, "up to all sorts of mischief. He'll lie and steal, and anything else that's bad. He aint fit to have charge of Rose."
"It isn't true," said the little girl, indignantly. "He doesn't lie nor steal. He's the best boy that ever lived."
"I haven't anything to do with that," said the policeman. "The question is, is this your father?"
"He was mother's husband," said Rose, reluctantly.