Robin, bone weary, empty from having had practically nothing for supper, and now scared out of his wits, felt his legs crumple, as a black curtain came down over him.
When Robin came to a few minutes later, he was lying on the ground with his cap tossed off to one side, his jacket unbuttoned. His head, which was now hurting fiercely, was resting on a pile of rags. He could not at first remember where he was. All he could see by the light of a single fluttering candle was four boys sitting on the ground in a circle. One of them was holding a candle. It took him a few moments to remember who the boys were.
“Piggy, you ain’t doin’ it right,” one of them was saying.
“Looky here, Spider,” was the reply, “me ma had more babies ’n yers, an’ I got stuck takin’ care o’ most o’ the lot. You don’t know spit ’bout it more’n I do.”
Babies! Danny! Robin struggled to sit up as fast as his hurting head would allow. Where was Danny?
And then he saw his little brother—in the arms of the boy called Piggy, who was sitting surrounded by the other boys. Robin dimly remembered their names as being Mouse, Spider, and Duck. Piggy was holding a bottle, from which Danny was sucking for all his worth, looking contendedly up into Piggy’s face.
“Look, all o’ you,” said Spider, the freckle-faced redhead, “the baby’s brother done woke up.”
“Don’t worry none,” said the spike-haired Duck. “We got yer brother took care o’. All o’ us growed up ’round a ma wot had so many babies you couldn’t o’ swung a bleedin’ cat an’ not hit one.”
“We even changed his dipe,” said Mouse proudly, with a grin that not only wrinkled his stubby nose, but displayed an enormous gap between his two front teeth. “You c’n rinch it out in the sink down the hall. This church got a room down here wot’s got a terlit wot actual cleans out when you go pullin’ a chain. An’ it got this sink in the hallway wot runs hot an’ cold.”
Spider pulled on an ear, and shook his head, frowning. “I d’no, Mouse. Don’t seem right rinchin’ a dipe in holy water.”
Duck gave a disgusted sigh. “Wot you got inside o’ that head o’ yers, Spider, ants runnin’ round? Wot’s holy ’bout it? Same basin wot the old man probable uses ter rinch out his mops. Mops is used ter mop the floor. You think as how rich people’s feet’s any cleaner ’n’ anyone else wot walks on the floor? They probable steps in dog poop like anyone else if they ain’t lookin’.Ain’t nobody said dog poop’s holy wot I ever heard ’bout.”
“Maybe,” said Spider, demolished.
“No maybe ’bout it,” said Duck, turning again to Robin. “Anyways, you c’n stay the night if it suits you,” he said indifferently.
“Th-thank you,” said Robin, faltering, for he was still having trouble taking in all that was happening.
“You ate anythin’ recent?” Duck asked him. Robin shook his head.
“Maybe that’s why he folded,” Mouse said. “We got that end o’ sausich an’ some bread still. Anybody cares if I give it ter’ ’im?”
Nobody appeared to care, so Mouse went over to the front wall, rummaged around in a cardboard box and carried back in his hands the sausage and a chunk of bread, both of which he thrust unceremoniously at Robin.
“Thank you very much,” said Robin, hungrily taking a big bite of the sausage. Nothing had ever tasted so good to him, and it was, in truth, a very good quality of sausage. He wondered how the boys had come by it. Stolen, without doubt.
“Maybe he’d like some water,” Spider said. “I’ll take a cup an’ go git ’im some.”
“You mean some o’ that holy water wot’s been blessed by the pope?” said Duck, exchanging grins with Mouse.
“Aw, shut up!” said Spider, turning red to the tips of his ears. He lit a candle and went stumping from the room.
“Yeah, you had better shut up,” Piggy said in a low voice. “The baby’s eyes is gettin’ heavy, an’ he’s goin’ back ter sleep. Mouse, you come git ’im and lay ’im over on that nest o’ rags in the corner out o’ the light.”
Mouse gently picked up Danny from Piggy’s arms and laid him down on the rags. By then Spider was already coming through the door with the cup of water. Then the boys all dropped down around Robin, waiting until he had drained the cup.
“Cornsider yerself blessed,” Duck said, casting another wicked grin in Mouse’s direction. “An’ now maybe you’d like ter tell us wot yer doin’ here with that baby wot you say’s yer brother.”
Robin looked nervously from one boy to the next—street boys. He had seen how they teased one another. What would they have to say to his plan to leave Danny on the steps of the church in the hope that some wealthy family would take him home and care for him? How could they know, or care, how desperate he was to have come up with such a plan?
“We’re waitin’,” said Duck.
Robin gulped. He felt he had no choice but to make up some acceptable lie, but for his life he could think of none. He would just have to tell the truth.
“I … I … I was going to leave him on the church steps in the morning and … and … and …” Robin stopped, trying to find the courage to go on.
“You was goin’ ter leave him on the steps,” Piggy went on for him quite matter of factly, “figgerin’ as how someone wot got lots o’ money would see wot a nice baby he were, and take ’im home. Ain’t that so?”
Robin nodded. “But … but I was going to find out who took him,” he blurted. “Then I would go and beg them to let me
