he policeman's face seemed to
soften and grow more like that of his brother-officer of Elbow Lane, it
did not grow less grave. Indeed, a great perplexity came into his eyes
and he appeared to be far more interested in the fate of Bonny Angel
than in the voluble interruptions of Apple Kate. When Glory paused, out
of breath and with no more to tell, he set the little one down and took
out his note-book. Having made some entries there, he exchanged a few
low-spoken words with the vender and these appeared to quiet her wrath
and silence her demands. Indeed, their influence was so powerful that
she selected a pile of the broken cakes, put them into a paper bag, and
offered them to Take-a-Stitch, saying:

"There, girl, it's all right, or will be, soon's officer finds that
young one's folks. It's past noon, nigh on toward night, an' likely she
was hungry, too little to know any better, and you can have part
yourself. You just do what he tells ye, an' you'll soon see that baby
back in its mother's arms. Laws, how heart-broke she must be a-losin' it
so."

Goober Glory heard and felt that her own heart was surely breaking.
Bonny Angel's "folks"! She had some, then, since this policeman said
so--policemen knew everything--and she wasn't a heaven-sent "Guardian,"
at all. And, furthermore, if this was a "lost child," she knew exactly
what would be done.

It would be the station house, after all, though not by way of arrest.
Meg-Laundress's assorted children had been "lost" on the city streets
more than once and Meg hadn't fretted a bit. She knew well, that when
her day's toil was over, she had but to visit the nearest station to
reclaim her missing offspring; or if not at the nearest, why then at
some other similar place in the great town, whence a telephone message
would promptly summon the child. But Bonny Angel? Station house matrons
were kind enough, and their temporary care of her brood had been a
relief to overworked Meg-Laundress; but for this beautiful "Guardian,"
they were all unfit. Only tenderest love should ever come near so
angelic a little creature and of such love Glory's own heart was full.

She reasoned swiftly. The baby was hers, by right, till that sad day of
which she had not dreamed when she must restore it to its "folks,"
whoever and wherever they were. She would so restore it, though it break
her heart; yet better her own heart breaking than that mother-heart of
which the vender spoke. To her search for gr