cry. Clare did not seek to stop him, for some instinct told him it
must be a relief.

By and by a working-man came along the road. Clare hesitated, but
Tommy's crying urged him. He rose and stood ready to accost him. As
soon as he came up, however, the man stopped of himself. He questioned
Clare and listened to his story, then counselled the boys to go back.

"I'm not wanted, sir," said Clare.

"They'd kill _me_," said Tommy.

"God help you, boys!" returned the man. "You may be telling me lies,
and you may be telling me the truth!--A liar may be hungry, but
somehow I grudge my dinner to a liar!"

As he spoke he untied the knots of a blue handkerchief with white
spots, gave them its contents of bread and cheese, wiped his face with
it, and put it in his pocket; lifted his bag of tools, and went his
way. He had lost his dinner and saved his life!

The dinner, being a man's, went a good way toward satisfying them,
though empty corners would not have been far to seek, had there been
anything to put in them. As it was, they started again refreshed and
hopeful. What had come to them once might reasonably come again!



Chapter XV.