Catching Andy into her arms, Pinky ran with him for the distance of half a block, and then turned into a close alley with small houses on each side.

At the lower end she stopped before one of these houses, and without knocking pushed open the door.
"Who's that ?" cried a voice from an upper room, the stairway to which led up from the room below.
"It's me.

Come down, and be quiet," answered Pinky, in a warning voice.
A woman, old and gray, with all the signs of a bad life on her wrinkled face, came hastily down stairs and confronted Pinky.
"What now?
What's brought you here ?" she demanded, in no friendly tones.
"There, there, Mother Peter! smooth down your feathers.

I've got something for you to do, and it will pay," answered Pinky, who had shut the outside door and slipped the bolt.
At this, the manner of Mother Peter, as Pinky had called her, softened, and she said, "What's up?
What deviltry are you after now, you huzzy ?" Without replying to this, Pinky began shaking the snow from Andy and unwinding the shawl with which she had bound him up.

After he was free from his outside wrappings, she said, looking toward the woman, "Now, isn't he a nice little chap?
Did you ever see such eyes ?" The worn face of the woman softened as she turned toward the beautiful child, but not with pity.