“I don't know.”
Norah laid her hand on the child's head:
“Does it hurt here?”
“Oh yes! It hurts so I can't see good,” answered Nell.
“It's all a lie! I know her; she's shamming.”
“Oh no, Norah!” cried the child, a sudden hope blending with the fear in her voice. “I ain't shamming at all. I fell down ever so many times in the street, and 'most got run over. Oh dear! oh dear!” and she clung to the woman with a gesture of despair piteous to see.
“I don't believe you are, Nell,” said Norah, kindly. Then, to the woman, “Now mind, Flanagan, Nell's sick; d'ye hear?”
The woman only uttered a defiant growl.
“She's not to be licked again to-night.” Norah spoke as one having authority.
“I wish ye'd be mindin' y'r own business, and not come interfarin' wid me. She's my gal, and I've a right to lick her if I plaze.”