"I'm only trying to help put it in your pocket," explained the girl.

"Ah, chase youseself!" exclaimed the doubter, contemptuously. "Dat don't
go wid me. Nah!"

"What doesn't go?" bewilderedly questioned Miss Durant.

"Wotcher tink youse up aginst? Suttin' easy? Well, I guess not! Youse
don't get youse pickers in me pocket on dat racket."

"She ain't goin' to take none of your money!" asserted the policeman,
indignantly. "Can't you tell a real lady when you see her?"

"Den let her quit tryin' to go tru me," protested the anxious capitalist;
and Constance desisted from her misinterpreted attempt, with a laugh which
died as the little fellow, at last successful in his endeavour to secrete
the money, moaned again at the pain it cost him.

"Shall we never get there?" she demanded impatiently, and, as if an answer
were granted her, the carriage slowed, and turning, passed into a
porte-cochère, in which the shoes of the horses rang out sharply, and
halted.

"Stay quiet a bit, mum," advised the policeman, as he got out; and
Constance remained, still supporting the urchin, until two men with a
stretcher appeared, upon which they lifted the little sufferer, who
screamed with pain that even this gentlest of handling cost him.

Her heart wrung with sympathy for him, Miss Durant followed after them