stones with her thin boots.

At this moment a bell rang. A door opened in a building across the
street, and many children came out.

As they passed the little girl, some of them looked at her. One
little boy bent down to see her face, but she hid it under her arm.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked. "Who's going to hurt you?"

She did not answer.

Another boy opened his lunch box as he passed, and shook out the
pieces of bread, left from his lunch.

Soon the children were gone, and the street was quiet again.

The little girl kicked at the stones a few minutes; then she looked
up. No one was looking at her, so she reached out one little hand
and picked up a crust of bread.

In a wink the bread was in her mouth. She reached out for another,
brushed off a little dirt, and ate that also.

Just then the policeman came down the street from the other corner.
The child quickly bent her head and looked down.

This time he came to where she sat, and stopped.

"Are you going to sit here all day, little girl?" he asked.

She did not answer.

"Your mother will be looking for you. You'd better run home now,
like a good girl. Where do you live, anyway?"

He bent down and lifted her chin, so she had to look up at him.

"Where do you live, miss? Tell us now, that's a good girl."

"I don't know." The child spoke slowly, half afraid.

"O come now, of course you know, a big girl like you ought to know.
What's the name of the street?"

"I don't know."

"Ah, you're only afraid of me. Don't be afraid of Jim Cunneen now.
I've a little girl at home just about your age."

He waited for her to answer, but she said nothing.

"Come miss, you must think. How can I take you home if you don't
tell me where you live?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, dear me! That is all I get for an answer. Well then, I'll have
to take you down to the station. May be you will find a tongue down
there."

As he spoke, he took hold of her arm to help her up. Then he tried
one more question.

"What is your name?"

"My name is Clematis."

As she spoke she moved her arm, and out from the coat peeped a
kitten. It was white, with a black spot over one eye.

"There, that is better," answered the policeman. "Now tell me your
last name."

"That is all the name I have, just Clematis."

"Well then, what is your father's name?"

"I haven't any father."

"Ah, that is too bad, dear. Then tell me your mother's name." He
bent down lower to hear her r