"Sally Calkins gave it to me last night. She got one give to her
somewhere."

Just as the last bite was gone, it occurred to Dirk, first to wonder,
and then to be almost certain, that his sister, having shared the apple,
had saved her entire share for him. It was not the first time he had
known of such an effort on her part to supply him with food. Had he
thought of it sooner he would certainly have left a bit of the dainty
for her; but no thought of telling her so, for an instant crossed his
mind. Neither had she, on her part, the slightest idea of describing to
him with what care and patience she and Sallie had roasted the choice
morsel before Sallie's fire, only last night,--Sallie's father being
fortunately late in coming, and so giving them a chance; then she had
borne hers home in a bit of paper, and carefully guarded it all day,
just for this hour. Also, she might have told him that she bit the end
from the potato before she remembered that there would be none left for
him, and then fitted it on again as best she could, and went without.
She would not have told him for worlds. Why? She could not have
explained why. Something within her shrank from letting him know, not
that she sacrificed for him, but that she _cared_ enough for him to
want to do it!

Potato and corn-bread were gone, to the last crumb; it seemed to Dirk
that there had been only enough of them to show him how hungry he was.

"I suppose there isn't anything more?" he said, wistfully, with the
rising inflection, indeed, but not as one who had any idea of receiving
an affirmative answer.

"I should think there wasn't!"--defiance in the tone--"there's a piece