At sight of her aunt and the policeman the old look of terror came back to her face, and she struggled to sit up.
"Don't you hurry yourself, now," said the policeman, kindly.
"And don't you be afraid of me.

I've come to look after you, and take you back to your friends." "You can't," muttered Emma Smith, sullenly.

"She's mine.
The child's right enough; they all want a hiding sometimes." "Sometimes, perhaps, but not constant; and never as you lays it on.
I should be taking you up for murder if you did it often in your way!" Emma Smith only looked more sullen.

"Well, she's mine, and no one else's, and I'm going to keep her." "Look here, my woman, what's the good of going on like that?
You've got to prove, first of all, that she is yours, and then that you're a fit and proper person to have her.

In the meantime I've got my orders to fetch her away, and if you want her you can apply to the magistrates, and prove to them all that you've been saying.
Now, then, where's her bonnet and shawl ?" "She hasn't got any," sulkily.
"Then you've got to provide her with some.