At her question the man cried out as if in pain, then reached for her in
a wave of yearning tenderness.

"Listen, dear; I--I had a little bundle for you--of--of things to eat."
He took her by the arms, and looked into her quaint, wise face, "And I
was so glad I had it, darling, for you are thinner than you were." He
paused to bite his lip, and continued haltingly, "There was bread in
that bundle--and meat--real meat--and sugar--and tea."

Virgie released herself and clapped her hands.

"Oh, Daddy, where is it?" she asked him happily, once more reaching for
the pocket. "'Cause I'm _so_ hungry for somethin' good."

"Don't! Don't!" he cried, as he drew his coat away, roughly, fiercely,
in the pain of unselfish suffering. "For Daddy's sake, don't!"

"Why, what is it, Daddy," she asked, in her shrillness of a child's
alarm, her eyes on the widening stain of red above his waist. "Is--is it
hurtin' you again? What is it, Daddy-man?"

"Your bundle," he answered, in the flat, dull tone of utter
hopelessness. "I lost it, Virgie. I lost it."

"Oh," she said, with a quaver of disappointment, which she vainly strove
to hide. "How did you do it?"

For a moment the man leaned limply against a chair-back, hiding his eyes
with one trembling hand; then he spoke in shamed apology: