“Is this man your father?” she asked of Jessy.
Immediately the boy burst into a peal of meaning laughter. The man himself chuckled, then looked grave, with an effort, as he stood extending the money.
“Better take 'em an' buy the young one some clothes,” he said.
“Who is this man?” demanded Maria, severely, of the laughing boy.
“It's Mr. John Dorsey,” replied Franky.
Then a light of the underneath evil fire of the world broke upon Maria's senses. She repelled the man haughtily.
“I don't want your money,” said she. “But”—she turned to the woman—“if you send that child to school again, clothed as she is to-day, I will have you arrested. I mean it.” With that she was gone, with a proud motion. Laughter rang out after her, also a scolding voice and an oath. She did not turn her head. She marched straight on out of the yard, to the street, and home.
She could not eat her supper. She had a sick, shocked feeling.
“What is the matter?” her aunt Maria asked. “It's so cold you can't have been bothered with the smells to-day.”
“It's worse than smells,” replied Maria. Then she told her story.