"No, ma'am. Mother died last spring, and I've had no friends since."
"But you live somewhere?"
"Oh, yes; there was a woman in the next room to mother, and she took me when mother died, and every day she sends me out like this, and she takes the money I get to pay for my keeping."
"Do you like to live with her?" I pursued, getting strangely interested.
A quick shudder of repugnance answered me before her words,—
"Oh, no, no!"
A sudden impulse moved me. I beckoned to a policeman who stood near by watching us.
"Do you know any thing of this child?" I inquired.
"Not much. She seems a quiet, well-disposed young one. A woman brings her here, a pretty rough customer, and leaves her here, and comes back after her toward night. I've seen her use her pretty hard, sometimes."