icular who hangs out in these department store
vestibules. But I'll bet I had the best excuse! I was waitin' for Vee!
She'd gone in at five-twenty-one, sayin' she'd be only a couple of
minutes; so she wa'n't really due for half an hour yet.

The commuter with the sled had just been picked up by Wifey, loaded down
with more bundles, and rushed off for the five-forty-something for
Somewhere, and a new recruit in the shape of a fish-eyed gink with a
double-chin dimple had drifted in, when I has the feelin' that someone
has sidled up to me from the far door at the left and is standin'
there. Then comes the timid hail:

"I beg pardon, Sir."

You'd naturally look for somebody special after that, wouldn't you? But
what I finds close to my elbow is a wispy little girl with a pinched,
high-strung look on her thin face, an amazin' collection of freckles,
and a pleadin' look in her big, blue-gray eyes. She's costumed mainly in
a shaggy tam-o'-shanter that comes down over her ears, and an old plaid
cape that must have been some vivid in its color scheme when it was new.

"Eh, Sister?" says I, gawpin' at her.

"Is it true about the work papers, Sir?" says she.

"The which?" says I, not gettin' her for a second. "Oh! Work papers?
Sure! They can't take you on unless you're over fourteen and have been
to school so many weeks."

"Not anywhere? Wouldn't they?" she insists.

I shakes my head. "Wouldn't dare," says I. "They'd be fined if they
did."

"Th-thank you, Sir," says she. "That's what the man said."

She was winkin' both eyes hard to hold the brine back, and her under lip
was trembly; but she was keepin' her chin up brave and steady. She'd
turned to go when she swings around.

"Please, Sir," says she, "where does one go when one is tired?"

"Why, Sis," says I sort of quizzin', "what's the matter with home?"

"But if one has no home?" she comes back at me solemn.

"The case being that of a little girl," says I, "she wanders around
until she's collected by a cop, turned over to the Children's Society,
and committed to some home."

"But I mustn't go there," says she, glancin' around scary. "No, not to a
home. Daddums said not to."

"Did, eh?" says I. "Then why don't he---- By the way, just where is
Daddums?"

"Taken up," says she.

"You mean pinched?" says I.

"I think so," says she. "Cook says the bobbies came for him. He left
word with her that I wasn't to worry, as he'd be let out soon, and I was
to stay wh