that is, no people but me, but she worked so hard
knitting and making bandages and things that she got sick. And after
she got sick she cried all the time and didn't mind who saw her."

"Where was your home?"

"Don't tell her! Don't tell her, Polly!" cried Peter. "Don't you
remember what she said 'bout our never telling that? She said a
p'liceman as big as the giant Jack killed would git us--an' he would
gouge out our eyes an' then he would go an' take Mother to jail an'
maybe he'd even hang her by the neck until she was dead."

"Has your mother done anything wicked that a policeman would do such a
thing to her?" asked Josie patiently and gently.

"Our mother do anything wicked!" exclaimed Polly. "Why she was the
goodest person in all the world."

"Don't you know policemen never do anything to good people. They don't
do anything to bad people either but arrest them and then the judge
decides what is to be done to them. The policemen are really good, kind
men, as a rule."

"I believe Cousin Dink was lying, anyhow," declared Polly stoutly. "How
could a policeman get our mother if our mother was already dead? I wish
I knew whether our mother was dead or not. I believe she must be or she
would not let us be traveling around with Cousin Dink, eating cream
puffs and pickles for breakfast. Mother was powerful particular about
what we ate for breakfast."

"I can find out whether or not your mother is dead if you will only
tell me what your name is and where you lived before you were taken off
by Cousin Dink," said Josie.

"You are sure they won't get me if I tell," whispered Polly. "Cousin
Dink told me I must tell everybody that my mother and father were dead
and that I loved her like a sister or aunt. She didn't want to be old
enough to be a mother. She said I must forget where I lived before she
carried us off. Sometimes I do almost forget it because it seems so
long ago."

"You got as far as the time your mother cried all the time," suggested
Josie. "What happened then?"

"Uncle Chester came back to Atlanta and said she must go to a hospital
and he wouldn't let any of her friends see her. He wouldn't let us see
her, either."

"And who is Uncle Chester? Is he your mother's brother or your
father's?" asked Josie, making a mental note of the little girl's slip
concerning Atlanta.

"Oh, he isn't either, at least, not a really and truly brother. He
always called our father Brother Stephen, but his name is Chester