Up to the time of her arrest and imprisonment, Pinky had faithfully paid the child’s board, and looked in now and then upon the woman who had it in charge, to see that it was properly cared for.  How marvelously the baby had improved in these two or three months!  The shrunken limb’s were rounded into beautiful symmetry, and the pinched face looked full and rosy.  The large brown eyes, in which you once saw only fear or a mystery of suffering, were full of a happy light, and the voice rang out often in merry child-laughter.  The baby had learned to walk, and was daily growing more and more lovable.

But after Pinky’s imprisonment there was a change.  The woman—­Mrs. Burke by name—­in whose care the child had been placed could not afford to keep him for nothing.  The two dollars week received for his board added just enough to her income to enable her to remain at home.  But failing to receive this, she must go out for day’s work in families at least twice in every week.

What, then, was to be done with little Andy, as the baby was called?  At first Mrs. Burke thought of getting him into one of the homes for friendless children, but the pleasant child had crept into her affections, and she could not bear the thought of giving him up.  His presence stirred in her heart old and tender things long buried out of sight, and set the past, with its better and purer memories, side by side with the present.  She had been many times a mother, but her children were all dead but one, and she—­Alas! the thought of her, whenever it came, made her heart heavy and sad.

“I will keep him a while and see, how it comes out,” she said, on getting the promise of a neighbor to let Andy play with her children and keep an eye on him whenever she was out.  He had grown strong, and could toddle about and take care of himself wonderfully well for a child of his age.

And now began a new life for the baby—­a life in which he must look out for himself and hold his own in a hand-to-hand struggle.  He had no rights that the herd of children among whom he was thrown felt bound to respect; and if he were not able to maintain his rights, he must go down helplessly, and he did go down daily, often hourly.  But he had will and vital force, and these brought him always to his feet again, and with strength increased rather than lost.  On the days that Mrs. Burke went out he lived for most of the time in the little street, playing with the children that swarmed its pavements, often dragged from before wheels or horses’ hoofs by a friendly hand, or lifted from some gutter in which he had fallen, dripping with mud.