Zula Part 2

"Why, I don't see why she should be taken to two horrid places to be locked up."

"She will not be locked up there, she will have her trial, and if she has no friends to pay her fine she will be sent to the reform school."

"Oh, how dreadful! But you don't seem to feel very sorry, Scott. Just think of it if it were me?"

"But you see, it is not my sister," said Scott.

"But she may be somebody's sister."

"Very true, and if she is that somebody is the one to feel badly over it, is he not?"

"Yes, but then perhaps her brother doesn't know it, and some one who does should help her, don't you think so?"

"Yes, we should help each other as much as we can in this world, but it is more than likely that the little girl you have taken such an interest in will do the same wicked act again."

"Well, she will be happy once, anyway."

"That depends on whether she promises not to repeat the offense."

They reached the station. Scott entered, and there among the low and degraded of the city sat the young culprit. Her black hair dropping down over her forehead made the dusky face, which was slightly pale, look almost wild, as the great black eyes wandered over the countenances around her. There was no fear, but as she turned her eyes toward the judge it seemed to Scott that a look of injured pride, so deep that scorn, hatred and intense mortification, all were blended in that one glance. She cast her eyes full upon Scott's face. As he approached her a short, sharp cry escaped her lips. He touched her lightly on the shoulder and said:

"Little girl, do you not wish to go home?"

"I can't," she said, looking almost fiercely at the judge. "I can't go home. I have got to go to--to--I don't know where."

Scott stepped up to the judge, and after a few moments' conversation left the room, ordering her to follow him. He placed her in the close carriage, and, shutting the door, said:

"Now, June, you must finish the business yourself."

June moved a slight distance as the rim of the child's old dusty straw hat came in contact with the bright little daisies of her own, and though her heart was filled with pity she could not prevent the feeling of disgust as she looked at the child's dirty and somewhat torn garments, but when she looked into the great black eyes and they softened under her words of kindness, she could scarcely keep back the tears, for June's heart was wonderfully tender, and she could not look unmoved on suffering humanity.

The girl settled back on the soft cushions of the carriage, and looking out of the window the great tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.

"What is your name?" June asked.

"Zula," she answered in a choked voice.

"What makes you cry? Are you not glad to get out of that horrid place?"

"Oh, yes, but it makes me cry to think."

"Well, then, don't think," June said, with a merry little laugh, "and be happy because you are free again. And now tell me what made you wicked?"

Zula brushed the tears away with her little brown hand, and a look full of wonder pa.s.sed over her face as she asked:

"Was I wicked? What do you mean?"

"Why, do you not know how wicked you were to steal, or to try to?"

"Why, no! Meg always tells me to steal anything I can get, and she will beat me now if I go home without anything, and after I have been gone all night, too."

"Why, how terrible. Let me give you some money," June said, taking from her little pearl purse a piece of silver, "you can give her that."

"I thank you," she said. "I will tell her that I stole it, and I could not get a chance till this morning."

"Oh, no, do not tell her that, be sure you do not; why it's just as wicked to tell a falsehood as it is to steal, and both are, oh, awfully wicked! Does not your mama ever tell you how wrong it is to do so?"

"Why, no; she tells me to take all I can get."

"Where shall we take you?" June asked, as the carriage turned into Woodward Avenue.

"To the end of this street, if you will, and then I'll run home."

"Were you afraid last night?" asked June, looking into Zula's black eyes.

"Afraid?" she repeated, scornfully; "no, I wasn't. I can be as ugly as any one if I try, no matter where I go."

"Do you wish to be naughty?" June asked with a little shiver.

"I would rather be good, if folks would be good to me. I could be good, for any one like you, lady, but when they are so awful mean to me sometimes I think I could kill them. How can I be good when everybody is so cross to me? Mam scolds and beats me, and Crisp and everybody else is cross to me but you, and your brother. Oh, I could die for him; he was so kind to get me out of that place, and I'd--oh, I'd die for him!"

"He would not let you do that, and if you lived with me I would not scold you, neither would Scott, and papa--why, he's too sick."

"But your ma would," Zula said, quickly.

"Well, mama lets me do about as I please, or as brother Scott says."

Scott had remained a silent listener, though he had watched the changing countenance of the child before him, and as he turned his gaze at one time from the carriage window he saw the black eyes fastened upon him in such a searching way that he almost started.

There certainly was a significance in the look, and though Scott Wilmer was counted one of the most discerning, he could not determine the exact nature of the gaze. Several times she turned with that same gaze and at last he asked:

"Well, little girl, what do you think of me, do I look very cross?"

"Oh, no, sir, you are so kind that I would give my life for you," she answered, with a burning light in the great black eyes.

Scott smiled and said:

"That is a great gift, and the last in the world that anyone would part with. Why do you think you would give your life?"

"'Cause it's true, and I hain't got anything else to give. Mam don't let me keep anything I steal, but I did get one thing that I've had this good while, and she don't know I've got it, 'cause I kept it hid.

I'll give it to you," she said, drawing a beautiful little pearl handled revolver from her pocket. "Crisp showed me how to shoot with his, and when I get out alone I use this."

June drew back and grew pale with fright.

"Oh, mercy," she said, "are you not afraid?"

"Why, no; it can't shoot unless I shoot it. Why, I can pop a squirrel's head off the first time I try."

"What, such a little thing as you? Why, I never saw a little girl that could shoot."