was the shop from whose cart Tommy had pilfered. A thin-faced,
bilious-looking, elderly man stood behind the counter.

"Well, boy, what do you want?" he said in a low, sad, severe, but not
unkindly voice.

"Please, sir," answered Clare, "I want something to do, and I thought
perhaps you could help me."

"What can you do?"

"Not much, but I can _try_ to do anything."

"Have you ever learned to do anything?"

"I've been working on a farm for the last six months. Before that I
went to school."

"Why didn't you go on going to school?"

"Because my father and mother died."

"What was your father?"

"A parson."

"Why did you leave the farm?"

"Because they didn't want me. The mistress didn't like me."