She was so exhausted that she crawled under a bush whose branches bent over and touched the ground. There, completely hidden, she felt safe. No people passing, no policemen, no one to call her ragged. This seemed a forsaken and lonely spot, apparently not worth guarding. So she soon fell asleep and forgot all her woes.
She slept for hours, and woke with a chill, wondering where she could be. It was some time before she could remember and tell how she got there. Then memory asserted itself, and all her misery rushed back upon her.
She sat up and crept out of her hiding-place, feeling that she was alone in the world. No father, mother, sisters, or brothers, no Roy, no one in the wide, wide world.
Not only no one to love her, but no one even to know that she existed. Alone—all alone!
The throngs of people had left the park and gone to their homes, to eat, drink, and be merry. Little children were tucked snugly in their beds, and all the great city was at its ease. Janet was alone in the silence of the night. No sound was heard in the darkness. The night was cloudy, and she was cold, hungry, and miserable.
Her brain was weak from starvation, and she said in a whisper: “Yes, Bishop, I’ve kept myself clean and pure. Your stockings are here, Bishop. There’s a hole in the toe, a hole in the heel, and holes all between the toe and the heel—but I’ve got them yet.”
She put on the old shoes, and seemed to be looking for something. Her braided hair had come loose, and fell like a veil about her. Her eyes were raised to the sky. The clouds parted and a bright star appeared.
She cried out with delight: “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you a long time. I was afraid you had forgotten me. You need not blink at me and twinkle so. I see you! I know you! I promised to see you to-night, so I’ve come on this hill to be near you. You know what I want. Don’t go away and leave me! It’s so dark, it frightens me. I’m coming to you! You are the only friend I have.
I’m coming! Pretty star, stay!
I’m coming! Don’t, oh don’t go away.