eply.

"I haven't any mother, either."

"No father? No mother?" The policeman lifted her gently to her feet.
"Well miss, we won't stay here any longer. It is getting late."

Just then the kitten stuck its head out from her coat and said,
"Miew."

It seemed very glad to move on.

"What's that now, a cat? Where did you get that?"

"It is my kitty, my very own, so I kept it. I didn't steal it. Its
name is Deborah, and it is my very own."

"Ah, now she is finding her tongue," said the policeman, smiling;
while Clematis hugged the kitten.

But the little girl could tell him no more, so he led her along the
street toward the police station.

Before they had gone very far, they passed a baker's shop.

In the window were rolls, and cookies, and buns, and little cakes
with jam and frosting on them.

The smell of fresh bread came through the door.

"What is the matter, miss?" The man looked down, as Clematis stood
still before the window.

She was looking through the glass, at the rolls, and cakes, and
cookies.

[Illustration: "I don't want to stay here if you are going to
throw my cat away"]

The policeman smelled the fresh bread, and it made him hungry.

"Are you hungry, little girl?" he asked, looking down with a smile.

"Wouldn't you be hungry if you hadn't had anything to eat all day
long?" Clematis looked up at him with tears in her big brown eyes.

"Nothing to eat all day? Why, you must be nearly starved!" As he
spoke, the policeman started into the store, pulling Clematis after
him.

She was so surprised that she almost dropped her kitten.

"Miew," said poor Deborah, as if she knew they were going to starve
no longer. But it was really because she was squeezed so tight she
couldn't help it.

"Now, Miss Clematis, do you see anything there you like?"

Jim Cunneen smiled down at Clematis, as she peeped through the glass
case at the things inside.

She stood silent, with her nose right against the glass.

There were so many things to eat it almost took her breath away.

"Well, what do you say, little girl? Don't you see anything you
like?"

"May I choose anything I want?"

"Yes, miss. Just pick out what you like best."

The lady behind the counter smiled, as the policeman lifted Clematis
a little, so she could see better. There were cakes, and cookies,
and buns, and doughnuts.

"May I have a cream cake?" asked Clematis.

"Of course you may. What else?" He lifted her a bit higher.

"M