"I don't want to ask Mr. Digby!—There are two boys; ragged;—and barefooted. I don't know what they are out for; they have nothing to do; they are just playing round an ash-barrel. I should think they'd be at home."
"Such people's home is often worse than the streets."
"But you don't know how it blows to-day. I should think, mother," said
Rotha slowly, "New York must want a great many good people in it."
"There are a great many good people in it."
"What are they doing, then?"
"Looking out for Number One, mostly," Mrs. Cord answered, who happened to be in the room.
"But it wants people rich enough to look out for Number One, and for
Number Two as well."
Mrs. Carpenter sighed. She knew there were more sides to the problem than the simple "one and two" which appeared to Rotha.
"There comes a coal cart, mother; that has to go, I suppose, for somebody wants it. I should hate to drive a coal cart! Mother, who wants it here? It is backing down upon our sidewalk."
"Mrs. Marble, I suppose."