“Where do you go, Roy, at night?” said she.
“Oh, anywheres! Sometimes us boys sleeps in boxes, and sometimes they have straw in ’em, and more times not. But you see, Janet, that won’t do for the likes of you.”
He thought in silence for a moment. “Let me see,” he said. “I’ve got ten cents in my pocket. That ought to lodge you for one night—but where? Oh, I know! Now, Janet, listen to me, and do just what I tell you. I’m going to take you to an old apple-woman near here, and don’t you open your mouth about the dipthery, and don’t say nothin’ ’bout where you lived or that you had any people, nor nothin’, ’cause if you do nobody ’ll let us come near ’em; and I’ll do what I can with the cross old apple-woman. She sort o’ takes to me, an’ she gives me specked apples for runnin’ errands for her.”
So they went on until they came to the apple-stand, over which a torch was burning.
“Aunt Betsy,” said Roy, “here ’s a poor little girl that can’t be left out on the street to freeze. Won’t you let the kid sleep on your floor for to-night?”
“Now, Roy,” said the old woman, “you know you’ve picked up a good-for-nothing vagabone on the street. Why don’t you take her to the ’ciety?”
“Lawks, Aunt Betsy, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout ’cieties, an’ fore we could find one she’d be froze stiff, so if you won’t take her in, she’ll have to lie down any place and die. I’ve got ten cents in my pocket, and I’ll give it to you if you’ll keep the kid to-night.”
“Oh, you’ve got ten cents, have you? Well, all right, she can sleep on a bit of a mat on my floor. And where might you be goin’?”
“Well,” said he, “I’ve got to sell some extrys late to-night, and I’ll scare up a box to turn in somewheres. Say,” he added, “she’s awful hungry. If you’ll give her a bit of grub, I’ll pay you for it to-morrow when I come round, and give you a paper.”
“All right, Roy, I’ll do what I kin.”