“With Mrs. Murphy, in Mulberry Street.”
This intelligence rather astonished granny, who heard it for the first time.
“Is the child related to you?” asked the officer.
“She’s my grandchild, but she’s always been a wild, troublesome child. Many’s the time I have kept awake all night thinkin’ of her bad ways,” said granny, virtuously. “It was only yesterday,” she added, with a sudden thought suggested by the sight of the money which she had seen Tom counting, “that she came to my room, and stole some money. She’s got it in her pocket now.”
“Have you taken any money from your grandmother?” demanded the policeman.
“No, I haven’t,” said Tom, boldly.
“I saw her put it in her pocket,” said granny.
“Show me what you have in your pocket.”
“I’ve got some money,” said Tom, feeling in rather a tight place; “but it was given me this morning by a gentleman at Fulton Ferry.”
“Show it,” said the officer, authoritatively.