"I 'ain't had much chance since I left home, sir. I had a bit of soap,
but----"

He bethought him that he had better say nothing about his
family. Tommy had picked his pocket of the soap the night before, and
tried to eat it, and Clare had hidden it away: he wanted it to wash
the baby with as soon as he could get some warm water; but when he
went to find it to wash his own face, it was gone. He suspected Tommy,
but before long he had terrible ground for a different surmise.

"You see, sir," he resumed, "I had other things to think of. When your
tummy's empty, you don't think about the rest of you--do you, sir?"

The baker could not remember having ever been more than decently,
healthily hungry in his life; and here he had been rough on a
well-bred boy too hungry to wash his face! Perhaps the word _one of
these little ones_ came to him. He had some regard for him who spoke
it, though he did talk more about him on Sundays than obey him in the
days between.

"I don't know, my boy," he answered. "Would you like a piece of
bread?"

"I'm not much in want of it at this moment," replied Clare, "but I
should be greatly obliged if you would let me call for it by and
by. You see, sir, when a man has no work, he can't help having no
money!"

"A man!" thought the baker. "God pity you, poor monkey!"