, little red and blue
hand. "Oh!" she gasped. "It is true!"

And then, if you will believe me, she looked straight before her at the
shop directly facing her. And it was a baker's, and a cheerful, stout,
motherly woman, with rosy cheeks, was just putting into the window a
tray of delicious hot buns,--large, plump, shiny buns, with currants in
them.

It almost made Sara feel faint for a few seconds--the shock and the
sight of the buns and the delightful odors of warm bread floating up
through the baker's cellar-window.

She knew that she need not hesitate to use the little piece of money.
It had evidently been lying in the mud for some time, and its owner was
completely lost in the streams of passing people who crowded and jostled
each other all through the day.

"But I'll go and ask the baker's woman if she has lost a piece of
money," she said to herself, rather faintly.

So she crossed the pavement and put her wet foot on the step of the
shop; and as she did so she saw something which made her stop.

It was a little figure more forlorn than her own--a little figure which
was not much more than a bundle of rags, from which small, bare, red and
muddy feet peeped out--only because the rags with which the wearer was
trying to cover them were not long enough. Above the rags appeared a
shock head of tangled hair and a dirty face, with big, hollow, hungry
eyes.

Sara knew they were hungry eyes the moment she saw them, and she felt a
sudden sympathy.

"This," she said to herself, with a little sigh, "is one of the
Populace--and she is hungrier than I am."

The child--this "one of the Populace"--stared up at Sara, and shuffled
herself aside a little, so as to give her more room. She was used to
being made to give room to everybody. She knew that if a policeman
chanced to see her, he would tell her to "move on."

Sara clutched her little four-penny piece, and hesitated a few seconds.
Then she spoke to her.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

The child shuffled herself and her rags a little more.

"Ain't I jist!" she said, in a hoarse voice. "Jist ain't I!"

"Haven't you had any dinner?" said Sara.

"No dinner," more hoarsely still and with more shuffling, "nor yet no
bre'fast--nor yet no supper--nor nothin'."

"Since when?" asked Sara.

"Dun'no. Never got nothin' to-day--nowhere. I've axed and axed."

Just to look at her made Sara more hungry and faint. But those queer
little thoughts were at work in her brain