usually sleep,--that is, when they have a bed to themselves, and their
mother has left a kiss with them. When he had slept, he had dreamed he
was wading in icy puddles out in the street.

But it was only a minute that he huddled there, trying to come really
awake, and then he sprang out, and without thought of a bath, was into
his clothes in a minute. The two older boys followed him more slowly,
yawning, growling, and quarreling.

Breakfast was served in the kitchen by Mrs. Freg. The room was bare and
ugly like the rest of the house, and the food was far from satisfying.
As the older boys got most of the bedding for themselves, so they got
most of the breakfast, while Mr. and Mrs. Freg laughed at them, and
praised them for fine, hearty boys who knew what they wanted and would
get it.

"You will succeed in the world, both of you," said Mrs. Freg with
mother-pride gleaming in her eyes, when they had managed to seize and
divide between them little Eric's steaming cup of coffee,--the only hot
thing he had hoped for that morning.

"Will I be a success, too?" asked Eric in a faint but hopeful voice.

"You!" said the harsh woman. "You, young man, had better be thankful to
work on at the canning instead of starving in the streets. That's the
fate of most orphans. Success indeed! Now hurry along, all of you. It's
quarter to seven."

But right here is where the day began to differ from other days. Eric
did not hurry along. He threw down his spoon and cried, "I'd just as