ho had
promised to look after the child, at which the latter grew angry in
turn, and told her to stay at home and take care of the brat herself, or
put him in one of the homes.

The fresh care and anxiety felt by Mrs. Burke drew little Andy nearer
and made her reject more decidedly the thought of giving him up. She
remained at home on the day following, but did not find it so easy as
before to keep the baby quiet. He had got a taste of the free, wild life
of the street, of its companionship and excitement, and fretted to go
out. Toward evening she put by her work and went on the pavement with
Andy. It was swarming with children. At the sight of them he began to
scream with pleasure. Pulling his hand free from that of Mrs. Burke,
he ran in among them, and in a moment after was tumbled over on the
pavement. His head got a hard knock, but he didn't seem to mind it, for
he scrambled to his feet and commenced tossing his hands about, laughing
and crying out as wildly as the rest. In a little while, over he was
knocked again, and as he fell one of the children stepped on his hand
and hurt him so that he screamed with pain. Mrs. Burke caught him in her
arms; but when he found that she was going to take him in the house he
stopped crying and struggled to get down. He was willing to take the
knocks and falls. The pleasure of this free life among children was more
to him than any of the suffering it brought.

On the next day Mrs. Burke had to go out again. Another neighbor
promised to look after Andy. When she returned at night, she found
things worse, if anything, than before. The child was dirtier, if that
were possible, and there were two great lumps on his head, instead of
one. He had been knocked down by a horse in the street, escaping death
by one of the narrowest of chances, and had been discovered and removed
from a ladder up which he had climbed a distance of twenty feet.

What help was there? None that Mrs. Burke knew, except to give up the
child, and she was not unselfish enough for this. The thought of sending
him away was always attended with pain. It would take the light out of
her poor lonely life, into which he had brought a few stray sunbeams.

She could not, she would not, give him up. He must take his chances. Ah,
but they were hard chances! Children mature fast under the stimulus
of street-training. Andy had a large brain and an active, nervous
organization. Life in the open air gave vigor and hardness to h