were about all there was left. With eyes slowly dilating Mildred
took in the bleak truth, but said only a few gentle words and was
very busy. She lifted Mrs. Bute's head, while Clara gave her a
little bread soaked in wine, and then aided Mrs. Wheaton in making
the room and bed a little more like what they should be by means of
the articles they had brought. Clara wonderingly saw that her little
closet was stocked with supplies for days to come. Her mother's
preternaturally brilliant eyes followed every movement, also, with
a dumb but eager questioning. Tired Belle in the meantime had
drawn a chair to the table, and with her head resting on her arms
had dropped asleep in a moment.

"Why should your sister work in a store if you're not poor?" Clara
asked Mildred. "You can't be poor and spare all these things."

"Yes, we're poor, but not so poor as you are," said Mildred simply.
"Belle touched our hearts in your behalf, and we see you need a
little neighborly help."

"Well, I was never so mistaken in any one in my life," Clara
exclaimed, looking at the sleeping girl, with a remorseful gush of
tears. "There isn't a bad streak in her."

At this moment the door opened, and two girls, who had been Clara's
companions at the shop, appeared with a few meagre parcels. Before
asking them in she pulled them back in the hall and there were a
few moments of eager whispering. Then they all came in and looked
at Belle, and Clara stooped down and kissed her lightly, at which
the girl smiled and murmured, "Dear little mother--always brooding
over her chicks."