The younger girl seemed perceptibly relieved, and Meg, with a good-natured nod, walked on.  But Hannah felt a vague sense of uneasiness.  That youngest girl, had she seen her before?  Her face puzzled, nay more, it annoyed her; she was an anxious, thin, dark-eyed child; her dress was as ragged as Meg's, but somehow she looked far above Meg in respectability.  Where _had_ Hannah Searles seen her before?  She turned a corner: she was now passing a police station, and yes, there was what she dreaded, a full description of little Roy; she stopped fascinated, to read it.