"Ah!" he said softly,
"that hurts; doesn't it, little one?"
"He hit me with the shovel--and I ran away--
I ran away--because he hit me."
"And you've been wandering about ever since,
without any dinner?"
Instead of answering, the child began to sob
violently. The Gadfly lifted him off the balustrade.
"There, there! We'll soon set all that straight.
I wonder if we can get a cab anywhere. I'm afraid
they'll all be waiting by the theatre; there's a
grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry
to drag you about so, signora; but----"
"I would rather come with you. You may
want help. Do you think you can carry him so
far? Isn't he very heavy?"
"Oh, I can manage, thank you."
At the theatre door they found only a few cabs
waiting, and these were all engaged. The performance
was over, and most of the audience had
gone. Zita's name was printed in large letters on
the wall-placards; she had been dancing in the
ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment,
the Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance,
and spoke to an attendant.
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