Perhaps the workmen were on a strike
that day. At any rate none of them were about, and the boy sprang up
onto a barrel that was standing near the curbstone, and sat there
drumming on the head with two pieces of lath and whistling a lively
air.
After a little his whistle ceased and he looked up and down the street
with a yawn, saying to himself,
"Gay ol' street, this is! Looks like everybody's dead or asleep."
But even as he spoke a girl came hastily around the nearest corner and
hurried toward him. She looked about fourteen. Her clothes were worn
and shabby but they were clean, and in her arms she carried a baby
wrapped in a shawl. She stopped beside Tode and looked at him with
imploring eyes.
"Oh can't you help me to hide somewhere? Do! Do!" she cried, with a
world of entreaty in her voice.
The boy glanced at her coolly.
"What ye want ter hide for? Been swipin' somethin'?" he questioned,
carelessly.
The girl flashed at him an indignant glance, then cast a quick,
frightened one behind her.
"No, no!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "I'm no thief. I'm running away
from old Mary Leary. She's most killed my little brother giving him
whiskey so's to make him look sick when she takes him out
begging. Look here!"
She lifted the shawl that was wrapped about the child.
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