Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 138: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

+ a> é iS DARKE DARRELL. 129 ing. The people were not my parents. They were good to me, in their way, but I do not want to go back to them. I was stolen from my real parents when quite a little girl.” It was evident that Leotine spoke the truth. There was no hesitancy in her tone, and she looked directly at Mrs. Kendrick. The latter concluded, by Leotitie’ S voice, face, attire, and correctness of speech, that she was at least not harboring a vagrant. ‘*Poor child!’ she said, commiseratingly. ‘‘ Are you hungry?” ‘““No, ma’am. Iam tired and sleepy.” «<'Then I will show you to bed,” and Mrs. Kendrick rose. <*T would like to question you further, but it would, per- haps, be unkind.” She walked toward the stair door. Leotine followed her, then turned, courtesied, and said: “¢ Good-night, sir.” | ‘‘Good-night,” responded Mr. Kendrick,. ‘‘She is at least well bred,” he said to himself, taking out a newspaper, and seating himself. In a little while his wife re-entered the room, and re- sumed her seat. “George, that is an odd little creature, Jewess, is she?” «¢ An Italian,” answered he, without looking up from his 33 she said. ‘“‘A Bewspapats ‘judging by her ee accent, and name.’ «© What do you know about fer: George?” ‘‘Nothing more than you know, my dear. I met her just outside the store. She seemed in distress; she asked me to take her home. I consented, believing you would be satisfied.” «T am not complaining, my dear,” rejoined the wife. Gomicbooks:co m a