singin'--could that make my grandpa go and leave me?"

For at her own breathless vivid picture of the orphanage children, as
she had seen them, the doubt concerning the captain's future actions
returned to torment her afresh.

"He might be sick, honey, or somethin' like that, but not o' free will.
Old Simon Beck'll never forsake the 'light o' his eyes,' as I've heard
him call you, time an' again."

"Don't you fret, child," continued Posy Jane. "Ain't you the 'Queen of
Elbow Lane'? Ain't all of us, round about, fond of you an' proud of you,
same's if you was a real queen, indeed? Who'd look after Mis' McGinty's
seven babies, when she goes a scrubbin' the station floors, if you
wasn't here? Who'd help the tailor with his job when the fits of
coughin' get so bad? 'Twas only a spell ago he was showin' me how't
you'd sewed in the linin' to a coat he was too sick to finish an' a
praisin' the stitches beautiful. What'd the boys do without you to sew
their rags up decent an' tend to their hurt fingers an' share your
dinner with 'em when--when you have one an' they don't?

"An' you so masterful like," went on the flower-seller, "a makin'
everybody do as you say, whether or no. If it's a scrap in a tenement,
is my Glory afraid? not a mite. In she walks, walks she, as bold as
bold, an' lays her hand on this one's shoulder an' that one's arm an'
makes 'em quit fightin'. Many's the job you've saved the police, Glory
Beck, an' that very officer yonder was sayin' only yesterday how't he'd
rather have you on his beat than another cop, no matter how smart he
might be. He says, says he, 'That little girl can do more to keep the
peace in the Lane 'an the best man on the force,' says he. 'It's prime
wonderful how she manages it.' An' I up an' tells him nothin' wonderful
'bout it at all.' It's 'cause everybody loves you, little Glory, an' is
ashamed not to be just as good as they know you think they be.

"Don't you fret, child," Jane went on, "Elbow folks won't let you go,
nor'll the cap'n leave you, and if bad come to worst them asylums are
fine. The Sisters is all good an' sweet, givin' their lives to them 'at
needs. Don't you get notions, Glory Beck, an' judge folks 'fore you know
'em. If them orphans gets scolded now an' then it does 'em good. They
ought to be. So'd you ought, if you don't get off to your peddlin'. It's
long past your time. Here's a nickel for the jacket an' you put it safe
by 'fore you start out. May as well let m