You know I was on the police in
New York, before the war, and that's about all you do know yet. One
bitter cold night, I was going my rounds for the last time, when, as
I turned a corner, I saw there was a trifle of work to be done. It
was a bad part of the city, full of dirt and deviltry; one of the
streets led to a ferry, and at the corner an old woman had an apple-
stall. The poor soul had dropped asleep, worn out with the cold, and
there were her goods left, with no one to watch 'em. Somebody was
watching 'em, however; a girl, with a ragged shawl over her head,
stood at the mouth of an alley close by, waiting for a chance to
grab something. I'd seen her there when I went by before, and
mistrusted she was up to some mischief; as I turned the corner, she
put out her hand and cribbed an apple. She saw me the minute she did
it, but neither dropped it nor ran, only stood stocks still with the
apple in her hand till came up.
"'This won't do, my girl,' said I. I never could be harsh with 'em,
poor things! She laid it back and looked up at me with a miserable
sort of a smile, that made me put my hand in my pocket to fish for a
ninepence before she spoke.
"'I know it won't,' she says. 'I didn't want to do it, it's so mean,
but I'm awful hungry, sir.'
"'Better run home and get your supper then.'
"'I've got no home.'
"'Where do you live?'
"'In the street.'
"'Where do you sleep?'
"'Anywhere; last night in the lock-up, and I thought I'd get in
there again, if I did that when you saw me.
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