"What you running from?"
"I'm a-runnin' from an orphan 'sylum."
"Good for you—where you going?"
"I'm goin' to Orstralia."
"Better for you—what you going there for?"
"'Cause," she said, firmly, "they know how to treat orphans there. They don't shut 'em up together like a lot o' sick pigs. They scatter 'em in families. The gover'ment pays their keep till they get old enough to fend for themselves. Then they gets a sum o' money an' they works—I heard a lady-board readin' it in a newspaper."
"A lady-board?"
"Yes—lady-boards has to run 'sylums."
"Course they do. Well, skip in, little un."