Then, refreshed by the food, she told her pitiful story, the old story
of a father who spent his earnings in the saloon, leaving his
motherless children to live or die as might be. Nan's heart ached as
she listened, and Theodore's face was very grave. When the girl had
gone away with the baby in her arms, Theo said, earnestly,
"Nan, I've got to earn more money."
"How can you?" Nan asked. "You work so hard now, Theo."
"I must work harder, Nan. I can't stand it to see folks starvin' an'
not help 'em. I'll pay you for what these two had you know."
Nan looked at him reproachfully. "Don't you think I want to help too?"
she returned. "Do you think I've forgotten that meal you gave Little
Brother an' me?"
"That was nothin'. Anyhow you've done lots more for me than ever I did
for you," the boy answered, earnestly, "but, Nan, how _can_ rich
folks keep their money for themselves when there are people--babies,
Nan--starvin' right here in this city?"
"I suppose the rich folks don't know about them," replied the girl,
thoughtfully, as she set the table for supper.
"I've got to talk it over with Mr. Scott," Theo said, as he drew his
chair up to the table.
"You talk everything over with Mr. Scott now, don't you, Theo?"
"'Most everything. He's fine as silk, Mr.
Pages:
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184