three of us resumed our homeward walk together, without any comment
until Angela had satisfied herself about the correctness of her change.

"What a slop you are!" remarked Henrietta, as her critical eye swept
over the undeveloped little figure in the long, greasy black-taffeta
coat, which, flapping open in front, disclosed the pasty surface of a
drabbled blue skirt. "Why don't you never turn your skirt, Angela?"

"Oh, what's the dif?" replied Angela. "There ain't no fellows going to
look at me any more now."

This reply, commonplace enough, might have passed unnoticed had there
not been a note of tragedy in her deep contralto voice.

"Why, what's the matter?" I asked.

"Don't you know?" she demanded, scowling at Henrietta's silly, vacant
"tee-hee."

"Know? Know what?" I asked.

"That I'm a grass-widow."

"A grass-widow!" I echoed in astonishment, and looked upon the childish
creature in sheer unbelief--for child I had always considered her. "Why,
how old are you, anyway, Angela?"

"Fifteen--I mean I'm 'most fifteen."

"And you're really married!" I exclaimed again, quite aghast and
altogether innocent of the construction which Angela immediately put
upon the qualifying adverb.

"Well, if you don't believe me look at that!" she cried, and stuck out a
tiny, dirty hand, with finger-nails worn to the quick, and decorated
with a gold band broad enough and heavy enough to have held a woman ten
times Angela's weight and size in the bands of indissoluble matrimony;
"I was married for fair, and I was married lawful. A priest did it."

"Oh, I didn't mean to question that," I hastened to apologize with some
confusion. "Only you seemed so very young, I thought you were just
joking me."

"Well, it's no joke to be married and have a baby, specially when you've
got to s'port it," returned the girl, her lips still pouting.

"And you've a baby, too--you!"

The bedraggled little prima donna nodded; the pout on the lips blossomed
into a smile, and a look of infinite tenderness transformed the tired,
dark little face. "It's up to the creche--that's where I'm going now.
The ladies keeps it awful good for me."

"And it's such a lovely baby, too!" declared Henrietta, softly. "I seen
it once."

"She's cute; there's no lie 'bout that," assented the little mother.
"Look what I bought her--here, you hold this Peter a minute--Henrietta,
just hang on to the Holy Virgin," and thrusting them into our hands, she
opened the box