, and she was talking to
herself though she was sick at heart.

"If I'm a princess," she was saying--"if I'm a princess--! When they
were poor and driven from their thrones--they always shared--with the
Populace--if they met one poorer and hungrier. They always shared. Buns
are a penny each. If it had been sixpence! I could have eaten six. It
won't be enough for either of us--but it will be better than nothing."

"Wait a minute," she said to the beggar-child. She went into the shop.
It was warm and smelled delightfully. The woman was just going to put
more hot buns in the window.

"If you please," said Sara, "have you lost fourpence--a silver
fourpence?" And she held the forlorn little piece of money out to her.

The woman looked at it and at her--at her intense little face and
draggled, once-fine clothes.

"Bless us--no," she answered. "Did you find it?"

"In the gutter," said Sara.

"Keep it, then," said the woman. "It may have been there a week, and
goodness knows who lost it. You could never find out."

"I know that," said Sara, "but I thought I'd ask you."

"Not many would," said the woman, looking puzzled and interested and
good-natured all at once. "Do you want to buy something?" she added, as
she saw Sara glance toward the buns.

"Four buns, if you please," said Sara; "those at a penny each."

The woman went to the window and put some in a paper bag. Sara noticed
that she put in six.

"I said four, if you please," she explained. "I have only the
fourpence."

"I'll throw in two for make-weight," said the woman, with her
good-natured look. "I dare say you can eat them some time. Aren't you
hungry?"

A mist rose before Sara's eyes.

"Yes," she answered. "I am very hungry, and I am much obliged to you for
your kindness, and," she was going to add, "there is a child outside who
is hungrier than I am." But just at that moment two or three customers
came in at once and each one seemed in a hurry, so she could only thank
the woman again and go out.

The child was still huddled up on the corner of the steps. She looked
frightful in her wet and dirty rags. She was staring with a stupid look
of suffering straight before her, and Sara saw her suddenly draw the
back of her roughened, black hand across her eyes to rub away the tears
which seemed to have surprised her by forcing their way from under her
lids. She was muttering to herself.

Sara opened the paper bag and took out one of the hot buns, which