"What makes it cry? Is it sick?" the boy asked, nodding toward the
baby.
The girl shook her head.
"What ails it then?"
"Starvin'."
The girl uttered the word in a lifeless tone as if it were a matter of
no interest to her.
"Where's yer mother?" pursued the boy.
"Dead."
"An' yer father?"
"Drunk."
"Ain't there nobody to look out for ye?"
Again the girl shook her head.
"Ain't ye had anything to eat to-day?"
"No."
"What d'ye have yesterday?"
"Some crusts I found in the street. Do go off an' le'me 'lone. We're
most dead, an' I'm glad of it," moaned the girl, drearily.
"You gi' me that baby an' come along. I'll get ye somethin' to eat,"
cried Theo, and as the girl looked up at him half doubtfully and half
joyfully, he seized the bundle of shawl and baby and hurried with it
up to Nan's room, the girl dragging herself slowly along behind him.
Nan cast a doubtful and half dismayed glance at the two strangers as
Theodore ushered them in, but the boy exclaimed,
"They're half starved, Nan. We _must_ give 'em somethin' to eat,"
and when she saw the baby's little pinched face she hesitated no
longer, but quickly warmed some milk and fed it to the little one
while the girl devoured the bread and milk and meat set before her
with a ravenous haste that confirmed what she had said.
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