which seemed to have surprised her by forcing their way from under her
lids. She was muttering to herself.

Sara opened the paper bag and took out one of the hot buns, which had
already warmed her cold hands a little.

"See," she said, putting the bun on the ragged lap, "that is nice and
hot. Eat it, and you will not be so hungry."

The child started and stared up at her; then she snatched up the bun and
began to cram it into her mouth with great wolfish bites.

"Oh, my! Oh, my!" Sara heard her say hoarsely, in wild delight.

"Oh, my!"

Sara took out three more buns and put them down.

"She is hungrier than I am," she said to herself. "She's starving." But
her hand trembled when she put down the fourth bun. "I'm not starving,"
she said--and she put down the fifth.

The little starving London savage was still snatching and devouring when
she turned away. She was too ravenous to give any thanks, even if she
had been taught politeness--which she had not. She was only a poor
little wild animal.

"Good-bye," said Sara.

When she reached the other side of the street she looked back. The child