The man of journeys nodded.
"Did she mend your clothes and things--and love to care for you?" Judy
wished to know.
He shook his tangled head. "She visited the poor," he told them, "and
had no time for the likes of me. And one day I fell out of a big hole
in my second suit and took to tramping." He rubbed his hands
vigorously together in the air. "And here I am."
"Yes," said Maria kindly. "I'm glad."
Meanwhile, Judy having decided to go and help her brother with the
tea-things, the others set to work and made a fire. Maria helped with
her eyes, picking up an occasional stick as well, but it was the Tramp
who really did the difficult part. Only the way he did it made it
appear quite easy somehow. He began with the tiniest fire in the
world, and the next minute it seemed ready for the kettle, with a
cross-bar arranged adroitly over it and a supply of fresh wood in a
pile beside it.
"What do _you_ think about it?" asked Tim of his sister, as they
struggled back with the laden basket. Apparently a deep question of
some kind asked for explanation in his mind.
"It's awful that he has no one to care about him," was the girl's
reply.
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