e hot buns, which had
already warmed her cold hands a little.

"See," she said, putting the bun on the ragged lap, "that is nice and
hot. Eat it, and you will not be so hungry."

[Illustration: "EAT IT," SAID SARA, "AND YOU WILL NOT BE SO HUNGRY."]

The child started and stared up at her; then she snatched up the bun
and began to cram it into her mouth with great wolfish bites.

"Oh, my! Oh, my!" Sara heard her say hoarsely, in wild delight.

"_Oh, my!_"

Sara took out three more buns and put them down.

"She is hungrier than I am," she said to herself. "She's starving." But
her hand trembled when she put down the fourth bun. "I'm not starving,"
she said--and she put down the fifth.

The little starving London savage was still snatching and devouring when
she turned away. She was too ravenous to give any thanks, even if she
had been taught politeness--which she had not. She was only a poor
little wild animal.

"Good-bye," said Sara.

When she reached the other side of the street she looked back. The child
had a bun in both hands, and had stopped in the middle of a bite to
watch her. Sara gave her a little nod, and the child, after another
stare,--a curious, longing stare,--jerked her shaggy head in response,
and until Sara was out of sight she did not take another bite or even
finish the one she had begun.

At that moment the baker-woman glanced out of her shop-window.

"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "If that young 'un hasn't given her buns
to a beggar-child! It wasn't because she didn't want them, either--well,
well, she looked hungry enough. I'd give something to know what she did
it for." She stood behind her window for a few moments and pondered.
Then her curiosity got the better of her. She went to the door and spoke
to the beggar-child.

"Who gave you those buns?" she asked her.

The child nodded her head toward Sara's vanishing figure.

"What did she say?" inquired the woman.

"Axed me if I was 'ungry," replied the hoarse voice.

"What did you say?"

"Said I was jist!"

"And then she came in and got buns and came out and gave them to you,
did she?"

The child nodded.

"How many?"

"Five."

The woman thought it over. "Left just one for herself," she said, in a
low voice. "And she could have eaten the whole six--I saw it in her
eyes."

She looked after the little, draggled, far-away figure, and felt more
disturbed in her usually comfortable mind than she had felt for many a
day.