"I get dinner generally; but I am afraid I
may n't get any to-day. Mrs. O'Meath is
drunk."

She spoke of it as if it were a matter of
course. Mildred's face was a study. The idea
of such a thing as not getting enough to eat had
never crossed her mind. She could not take
it in.
"Here, take this; eat all of it. I will get my
mother to send you some dinner right away,
and every day." She took hold of Molly's thin
hand and stroked it in a caressing, motherly
sort of way. "What is your name?" She
leaned over her and stroked her little dry brow,
as her mother did hers when she had a head-
ache.
"Molly."

"Molly what?"

"I don't believe I 've got any other name,"
said Molly. "My mother was named Mary."

"Where is she?" asked Mildred.
"She 'sdead."

"And your father?"
384



TWO PEISONERS

"Kilt!" said Molly. " 'T least I reckon he
was. Mrs. O'Meatli says lie was. I don't know
whether he 's dead or not. ' '

Mildred's eyes opened wide. The idea of any
one not knowing whether or not her father was
living !

"Who is Mrs. O'Meath?" she asked.
"She 's the lady 't takes care of me."

"Your nurse?"

"N— I don't know. She ain't my mother."

"Well, she don't take very good care of you,
I think," said Mildred, looking around with an
air of disapproval.
"Oh! she 's drunk to-day," explained Molly,
busily eating her bread.
"Drunk!" Mildred's eyes opened with hor-
ror.
