oice:

"Robert, dear, this meal has cost us our last halfpenny."

My mother was old and frail, and her voice very gentle; she was the
most trustful, uncomplaining woman I ever knew.

I looked up quickly into her face as she spoke. "All the money gone,
Mother?"

"Aye, all. It will be hard for you to go without your dinner, Robert,
dear."

"It will be harder for _you_, Mother," I cried, striking the table with
my fist; then a lump rose in my throat and almost choked me. I could
not utter another word.

It was with difficulty I managed to eat the little food that was before
me. After breakfast I rose hastily and rushed out of the house,
determined that I would get my mother her dinner, even if I should have
to beg for it. But I must confess that a sick feeling came over me
when I thought of begging.

Hurrying along the crowded streets without knowing very well what I
meant to do, I at last came to an abrupt halt at the end of the pier.
Here I went up to several people and offered my services in a wild sort
of way. They must have thought that I was drunk, for nearly all of
them said gruffly that they did not want me.

Dinner-time drew near, but no one had given me a job, and no wonder,
for the way in which I tried to get one was not likely to be
successful. At last I resolved to beg. Observing a fat, red-faced old
gentleman coming along the pier, I made up to him boldly. He carried a
cane with a large gold knob on the top of it. That gave me hope, "for
of course," thought I, "he must be rich." His nose, which was exactly
the colour and shape of the gold knob on his cane, was stuck in the
centre of a round, good-natured countenance, the mouth of which was
large and firm; the eyes bright and blue. He frowned as I went forward
hat in hand; but I was not to be driven back; the thought of my
starving mother gave me power to crush down my rising shame. Yet I had
no reason to be ashamed. I was willing to work, if only I could have
got employment.

Stopping in front of the old gentleman, I was about to speak when I
observed him quietly button up his breeches pocket. The blood rushed
to my face, and, turning quickly on my heel, I walked away without
uttering a word.

"Hallo!" shouted a gruff voice just as I was moving away.

I turned, and observed that the shout was uttered by a broad
rough-looking jack-tar, a man of about two or three and thirty, who had
been sitting all the forenoon on an old cask smok