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MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE
she expostulated with her, sadly, urgently, and saw, with a strange sinking of the heart, the unchildish callousness of the pitifully unchildish stare.
"Audrey — " the mother breathed tremulously. Then came a sound of hurry, terror-urged feet, and Tom burst into the room. His face, hardened by that same street-taint, was whitened under the grime.
tions of children of the streets. Marie pleaded for him. She told the pitiful, every-day story with her heart-break in her wistful eyes. And the judge, understanding, let the boy go on parole.
Yet Marie felt the end of it all. The parole and what it meant was clear to her. She stood condemned of inadequacy. She had tried, and she had failed. The streets had taken
AND THE JUDGE, UNDERSTANDING, LET THE BOY GO ON PAROLE
"Mums," he burst forth, "th' cops — th ' cops are after us ! "
"What for? Tom, answer me! What have you done?"
"We was in a cellar — shootin' craps — not for much. 'Tisnt any harm, anyhow. None of their sneakin' business. Golly, mums "
Birthright ; breeding ; work-worn fingers; a mother's heart-break avail nothing against the law and the law's decree. Tom was taken to the Children's Court, and there arraigned, in company with all sorts and condi
their toll of the children and had marked them indelibly. The judge had said a ' ' Home. ' ' He had told her how much better they would be there than on the streets. A Home ! What a mockery! Thus does the City cradle her orphaned young, until the doing of some actual wrong, some glaring lack on the part of parent or purse; then are they taken from the cradle of the streets and put into Homes, where, with careful repression, they are uniformly and quite consistently trimmed, pruned and modeled into