A woman peered out from a wide, lavishly curtained window, chewing her lip. Her eyes followed the two children closely. They giggled and romped around the soacious front lawn. Who does that boy belong to? She wondered if he were a good sort. His clothes seemed dirty, ragged, and his face was smudged and freckled. I hope he isn't one of the Dicey children, she thought nervously. She certianly wouldn't want her daughter associating with any of them.
She turned away for a few moments to sort the china in the Belgian cabinet, a nervous habit of hers. When she glanced back out the window, the wild-eyed boy was gone and, with him, her precious child.