Her guilty conscience
pictured all sorts of punishments; worse, far worse, than
"grandma's" judgments, and, falling on her knees, she grasped the
old lady's black satin gown and implored for mercy.
The old lady, now her attention was drawn off from her own
annoyance, settled her eyes on the brooch half concealed by a
fold of the little lace spenser.
"You wicked, bad child!" she exclaimed, seizing her arm and
pouncing one stiffly gloved hand on the sparkling brooch; "you've
stolen that! It's bad enough to be run into by a dirty little
thing fresh from Bedlam, without being wicked into the bargain.
That's TOO much!"
The little black figure being too wretched to hear this tirade,
could only mumble and wail and wriggle closer and closer into the
folds of the rich gown.
"Get out of my dress!" cried the old lady excitedly. "Here, I'll
call the police; if you don't let go of me this instant! Stop, I
say! Po-o-lice!"
Viny gave one violent jerk that brought her up to her feet, and
with eyes distended in terror, started in wild despair across the
street. A pair of handsome bays were coming in their best step
down from the Square, drawing a carriage full of people who
seemed in the very best of spirits.
"WHOA-A!" A click, a rapid pull-up with all Thomas's best
strength, and the horses fell back on their haunches just in time
for the little lithe figure to dart under their pawing hoofs and
be saved! Everybody leaned out of the carriage for a glimpse of
the child.
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