"Does she bring her money home?"
"Yes, yes, judge! Please, she brings all her money home. She's a good
girl."
"Ever seen her before, officer?"
"Well, your honor, I don't know. I've seen her in the street once or
twice, and from the way she was behavin', your honor, I thought she needed
watchin'."
"Never caught her, though, officer?"
No, your honor, this is the first time."
"Hm," said his honor.
Now the lawyer was talking. What was he saying? What was the matter?
Blanche was a good girl. Why they arrest her?
"Shh, Paula, shh! Mus'n't." She held the child closer to her heavy bosom.
Hungry. But it must wait. Pretty soon.
He was a nice judge. "All right," he said, "you can go, Blanche. But if
they bring you in again it'll be the House of the Good Shepherd. Remember
that. I'll let you go on account of her."
A nice judge. "Thank you, thank you, judge. Shh, Paula! Goo-by."
Now she would find out. She would ask Blanche. They could talk aloud in
the hallway.
"Blanche, come here." A note of authority came into the woman's voice. A
girl of eighteen walking at her side turned a rouged, tear-stained face.
"Aw, don't bother me, ma. I got enough trouble."
"What was the matter with the policeman?"
"Aw, he's a boob.
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