“You are young to be sent out in this way. Haven’t you got a father to take care of you?”
“Papa used to take care of me when he was well, and did not let me come out; but now he is sick, and we have no money, and I have to leave him,” said the little girl, sadly.
“Poor child!” said Gilbert, compassionately. “You are unfortunate. Where does your father live?”
“On Pearl Street, in a tenement house,” said the little flower-girl; “but I am afraid we will be turned out because we cannot pay the rent.”
“What is your name?”
“Emma Talbot.”
“Then, Emma, if you like, I will go around and see your father with you. Perhaps I can help him, or get some of my friends to help him. Can you come now?”
“When I have sold this bunch of flowers, sir.”
“As it is the last you have got, I will take it; so we needn’t wait.”
“Oh, thank you, sir,” said the child, brightening up. “If you won’t mind, I will stop and buy a roll at the baker’s for papa.”