The Bishops Shadow | Page 6

some more, but I've forgot what 'tis," the boy replied, carelessly.
"And where's your home, Tode?"
"Home? Ain't got none. Never had none--no folks neither."
"But where do you live?"
"Oh, anywheres. When I'm flush, I sleeps at the Newsboys' Home, an' when I ain't, I takes the softest corner I can find in a alley or on a doorstep," was the indifferent reply.
Nan looked troubled.
"But I can't do that," she said. "I can't sleep in the street with Little Brother."
"Why not?" questioned Tode, wonderingly.
"Oh because--girls can't do like that."
"Lots o' girls do."
"But--not nice girls, Tode," said Nan, wistfully.
"Well no, I don't 'spect they're nice girls. I don't know any girls 't amount to much," replied Tode, disdainfully.
Nan flushed at his tone, as she answered,
"But what can I do? Where can I go? Seems as if there ought to be some place where girls like me could stay."
"That's so, for a fact," assented Tode, then he added, thoughtfully, "The's one feller--mebbe you could stay where he lives. He's got a mother, I know."
"Oh if I only could, Tode! I'd work ever so hard," said Nan, earnestly.
"You stay here an' I'll see 'f I can find him," said the boy. Then he turned back to add suspiciously, "Now don't ye clear out while I'm gone."
Nan looked at him wonderingly.
"Where would I go?" she questioned, and Tode answered with a laugh,
"That a fact--ye ain't got no place to go, have ye?"
Then he disappeared and Nan waited anxiously for his return. He came back within an hour bringing with him a freckle-faced boy a year or so older than himself.
"This's the gal!" he remarked, briefly.
The newcomer looked doubtfully at Nan.
"See the little feller," cried Tode, eagerly. "Ain't he a daisy? See him laugh," and he chucked the baby clumsily under the chin.
The child's heavy eyes brightened and he smiled back into the friendly, dirty face of the boy.
The other boy looked at Tode wonderingly. "Didn't know 't you liked kids," he said, scornfully.
"So I don't--but this one's diff'runt," replied Tode, promptly. "You ain't no common kid, be ye, Little Brother?"
"What's his name?" questioned the boy.
"His name is David, but mother always called him Little Brother, and so I do," answered the girl, in a low tone. "Have you a mother?" she added, with an earnest look at the boy.
"Got the best mother in this town," was the prompt reply.
"Oh, won't you take me to her, then? Maybe she can tell me what to do," Nan pleaded.
"Well, come along, then," responded the boy, rather grudgingly.
"You come too, Tode," said Nan. "'Cause you know we might meet Mary Leary."
"All right. I'll settle her. Don't you worry," and Tode, with a very warlike air marched along at Nan's right hand.
"What's your mother's name?" questioned Nan, shyly, of the newcomer as the three walked on together.
"Hunt. I'm Dick Hunt," was the brief reply. Then Dick turned away from the girl and talked to Tode.
It was not very far to Dick's home. It was in one of the better class of tenement houses. The Hunts had three rooms and they were clean and comfortably furnished. Tode looked around admiringly as Dick threw open the door and led the way in. Tode had never been in rooms like these before. Nan--after one quick glance about the place--looked earnestly and longingly into Mrs. Hunt's kind motherly face. Dick wasted no words.
"Mother," he said, "this girl wants to stay here."
Mrs. Hunt was making paper bags. Her busy fingers did not stop for a moment, but she cast a quick, keen glance at Nan and Tode.
"What do you mean, Dick?" she said.
"Oh, Mrs. Hunt, if you only would let us stay here till I can find a place to work, I'd be so thankful. We'll have to stay in the street tonight--Little Brother and I--if you don't," urged Nan, eagerly.
Mrs. Hunt's kind heart was touched by the girl's pleading tone. She had girls of her own and she thought, "What if my Nellie had to spend the night in the street," but she said only:
"Sit down, my dear, and tell me all about it."
The kind tone and those two words "my dear," were almost too much for poor anxious Nan. Her eyes filled with tears and her voice was not quite steady as she told again her sorrowful little story, and when it was ended the mother's eyes too were dim.
"Give me that baby," she exclaimed, forgetting her work for the moment, and she took the little fellow tenderly in her arms. "You poor child," she added, to Nan, "of course you can stay here to-night. It's a poor enough place an' we're as pinched as we can be, but we'll manage somehow to squeeze out a bite and a corner for you for a day or two anyway."
Tode's face expressed his satisfaction as he turned