husband. She thought of the agony he would endure if he knew that his
wife and children were suffering for food. A swelling of her bosom
told of the emotion raging within her, and again the tears started to
her eyes.

"Come, my sweet boy," she said, dashing away the tears, as they came
like dewdrops from her eyelids, and speaking to the infant on her
knee, "it is time to go to bed."

"Aint I to get some bread before I go to bed?" he asked.

"There is none, darling," she answered hastily. "Wait until to-morrow
and you will get some."

"But I am so hungry," again repeated the child, and again a pang of
wretchedness shot through the mother's breast.

"Never mind," she observed, kissing him fondly, "if you love me, let
me put you to bed like a good child."

"I love you!" he said, looking up into her eyes with all that deep
love that instinct gives to children.

She undressed and put him to bed, where the little Ella followed him
soon after. Mrs. Wentworth sat by the bedside until they had fallen
asleep.

"I love you, mother, but I am so hungry," were the last words the
infant murmured as he closed his eyes in sleep, and in that slumber
forgot his agonizing pangs for awhile.