afford to be angry with her; nay, better, to seem angry also, and
that was an uncommon luxury with him.

"Well, why didn't you go to the basement?"

"It was dark there--and through that window everything looked so
warm--I could not help it!"

"Could not help it, indeed! Go away! I never encourage street beggars.
It would be doing a wrong to the people who look up to me for an
example. Go away this minute--how dare you come up to this door? You
are a bad little girl, I dare say!"

"No sir--no--no, I am _not_ bad! Please not to say that. It hurts me
worse than the cold!" said the child, raising her sweet voice and
clasping her little wan hands, while over her features many a wounded
feeling trembled, though she gave no signs of weeping.

What a contrast there was between the heartless face of that man,
and the meek, truthful look of the child! How cold and harsh seemed
his voice after the troubled melody of hers!

"I tell you, there is no use in attempting to deceive me. Station
houses are built on purpose for little thieves that prowl about at
night!" and the cold-hearted man half closed the door, adding, "go
away--go away! Some policeman will take you to a station house, though
I dare be sworn you know how to find one without help."

The door was closed with these words, shutting the desolate child
into the cold night again. She neither complained nor wept; but