"There, girl, it's all right, or will be, soon's officer finds that young one's folks. It's past noon, nigh on toward night, an' likely she was hungry, too little to know any better, and you can have part yourself. You just do what he tells ye, an' you'll soon see that baby back in its mother's arms. Laws, how heart-broke she must be a-losin' it so." Goober Glory heard and felt that her own heart was surely breaking. Bonny Angel's "folks"! She had some, then, since this policeman said so--policemen knew everything--and she wasn't a heaven-sent "Guardian," at all. And, furthermore, if this was a "lost child," she knew exactly what would be done. It would be the station house, after all, though not by way of arrest. Meg-Laundress's assorted children had been "lost" on the city streets more than once and Meg hadn't fretted a bit. She knew well, that when her day's toil was over, she had but to visit the nearest station to reclaim her missing offspring; or if not at the nearest, why then at some other similar place in the great town, whence a telephone message would promptly summon the child. But Bonny Angel? Station house matrons were kind enough, and their temporary care of her brood had been a relief to overworked Meg-Laundress; but for this beautiful "Guardian," they were all unfit. Only tenderest love should ever come near so angelic a little creature and of such love Glory's own heart was full. She reasoned swiftly. The baby was hers, by right, till that sad day of which she had not dreamed when she must restore it to its "folks," whoever and wherever they were. She would so restore it, though it break her heart; yet better her own heart breaking than that mother-heart of which the vender spoke. To her search for grandpa, in which Bonny Angel was guide, was now added a search for these unknown "folks" to whom she must give the little one up. That was all. It was very simple and very hard to do, till one thought came to cheer her courage. By the time she found these unknown people she would, also, have found Captain Simon Beck! She had been supremely happy with him, always, and she would be happy again; yet how dear, how dear this little comrade of a day had become! Glory's decisions never wavered. Once made, she acted upon them without hesitation. She now turned to the policeman, who had written some further items in his book and was now putting it into his pocket, and said, "You needn't bother, Mister P'liceman, to find 'em. I'll take Bonny Angel home my own self." "Hey? What? Do know where she belongs, after all? You been fooling me with your talk?" he asked quickly, and now with face becoming very stern indeed. He was sadly used to dealing with deceit but hated to find it in one so young as Goober Glory.