theirs.

They did not know that it was the remembrance of another child,--one
who awaited her home-coming,--a petted little princess born to purple
and fine linen, that made her so tender towards them. Remembering what
hers had, and all these lacked, she felt that she must crowd all the
brightness possible into the short afternoon they were together.

Every one of them, at some time in their poor bare lives, had known
what it was to be kindly spoken to by elegant ladies, to be
patronizingly smiled upon, to be graciously presented with gifts.

But this was different. This one took the little Hodge girl right up
in her lap while she was telling them stories. This one did not pick
out the pretty ones to talk to, as strangers generally did. It really
seemed that the most neglected and unattractive of them received the
most of her attention.

From time to time she glanced across at Robin's lovely face, and
contrasted it with the others. The older boy attracted her still more.
He seemed to be the only thoughtful one among them all. The others
remembered no past, looked forward to no future. When they were hungry
there was something to eat. When they were tired they could sleep, and
all the rest of the time there was somebody to play with. What more
could one want?

The child never stirred from his place, but she noticed that he made a
constant effort to entertain Robin. He told him stories and invented
little games. When the bundle came flying in through the window he
opened it with eager curiosity.