d that
soon perishes--for instance, fish, or fruit, or bread-stuffs--there is
often a certain quantity left over at night that will not be quite fresh
in the morning, and so it is sold cheaply, and it is this that the
children of the poor come to buy. Some shops almost give it away. On
Saturday night, outside a pastry-cook's, there was a row of patient boys
and girls, each with a basket or bag, and some had been standing there
for a long time, because it is a case of 'first come, first served,' and
no pushing is allowed. As another little child arrived it took up its
stand at the end of the row, and waited until the time came for closing
the shop. Then each child paid so much--say sixpence--and got a large
quantity of bread, and so much cake, and if there was not enough to go
round the last ones had to go away without any.

At the fish shops there are different ways of doing this at different
shops. At one big shop all the fish that is over after the day's sale is
done is put into a large basket--there may be a piece of cod, and
several small fish, and some whiting or mackerel--and then each child
pays twopence, and the man in the shop deals out the fish as it comes,
giving so much to each, without asking what the children want. The poor
little bairns watch eagerly until their own turn comes. See that big bit
of cod? That would make a Sunday dinner for all of Ellen's people, and
Ellen watches it anxiously. There is a very small girl in front of
herself, and Ellen nearly cries when she sees the man put it into her
bag; but she cheers up again when a whole fish, of what kind she is not
quite sure, but still it looks very good, is passed on to her. There is
no waiting afterwards. How the little feet run home, and how the shrill
little voices cry, 'Mother, mother! look what I've got!' But it may be
also that a disappointed little girl goes away, crying softly, for she
came too late, so she had to stand quite at the end of the row, and when
her turn came there was nothing left. 'No more to-night,' the shopman
said cheerily, and seeing the pale, wistful little face, he added, 'Come
in better time another week, little girl.'

The little girl stole away quietly, but when she got to a dark corner
she sat down and cried bitterly; it was not so much for the sake of the
fish as because she knew she would get a beating from her drunken mother
when she went home without it. Yet she could not help it; she had had so
much to do that d