The child nodded.

"How many?"

"Five."

The woman thought it over. "Left just one for herself," she said, in
a low voice. "And she could have eaten the whole six--I saw it in her
eyes."

She looked after the little, draggled, far-away figure, and felt more
disturbed in her usually comfortable mind than she had felt for many a
day.

"I wish she hadn't gone so quick," she said. "I'm blest if she shouldn't
have had a dozen."

Then she turned to the child.

"Are you hungry, yet?" she asked.

"I'm allus 'ungry," was the answer; "but 'tain't so bad as it was."

"Come in here," said the woman, and she held open the shop-door.

The child got up and shuffled in. To be invited into a warm place full
of bread seemed an incredible thing. She did not know what was going to
happen; she did not care, even.

"Get yourself warm," said the woman, pointing to a fire in a tiny back