Morning at length dawned, and Janet rose, her plans all made. She did the work for the old woman, ate the dry bread and drank the weak coffee that was given her, and, after tying the dog, went forth again into the cold, hard world. The dog whined so piteously when Janet kissed him, and gave her such a pleading look which she could not misunderstand, that it was impossible to resist it. She left him tied, but in such a way that if he tried he could wriggle himself loose. She bade the old woman good-by, and thanked her for the shelter she had given her.
Roy had told her once that there was a beautiful park somewhere in the city, but it was a great way off. He told her there was lovely green grass in the park, and big, shady trees, and quiet pools of water; that the birds sang there all day long, and beautiful flowers bloomed there until almost winter-time. So the heart of the lonely waif, deserted and cast out by all mankind, turned to this beautiful spot of nature. She gathered her rags about her and started to walk to the park. She was not strong—starvation and exposure do not give strength to children—and when hope dies, the cup of sorrow runs over, and the little strength left is soon exhausted.
So she trudged along, sometimes stopping for a moment to look at what she passed, and often gazing at the food displayed in the shop-windows, for she was very hungry. Something in her wan, white face must have appealed to a man who passed her, for he stopped and gave her a penny. She bought a roll with it, devoured it like an animal, not like a child, and then walked on.
At last a lady passed her and asked her to carry one of the many bundles she was laden with a few blocks for her. Janet rose to oblige her, for she was sitting on the steps of a house to rest. When she had carried the bundle as far as was desired, the woman gave her five cents, and, noticing how utterly miserable the child looked, asked her where she was going.
“To the park,” replied Janet.
“Why, my child,” she said, “that is very far away from here. You had better ride in the cars.”
“But I don’t know how to get the right one,” said Janet.
The woman showed her the car, and with the five cents she rode and rested at the same time.
At last she came to what she knew must be the beautiful park. After she had entered it, she went along in a timid, fearful way till at last she came to a secluded spot. She seated herself on one of the benches, but from time to time she looked over her shoulder to see if the policeman (the greatest terror of the poor) was coming.
She rested a long time under the overhanging branches of a large tree—how long she did not know. After a while she saw throngs of people on the road, driving in gay carriages. She wondered if she could cross over to the water, where Roy had told her there were boats; but she was afraid to move, for fear the police would lay hold of such a ragged-looking thing as she felt herself to be.