When the Squire was told of the sentence that evening, he said it was too mild by half, and talked of bringing her also to book at Warwick. But Mrs. Todhetley said, "No; forgive her." After all, it was only the loss of the clothes. Nothing whatever had come out during the trial to connect Jake with the woman. She appeared to be a waif without friends. "And I watched and listened closely for it, mind you, Johnny," remarked Tod. * * * * * It was a day or two after this--I think, on the Wednesday evening. The Squire's grand-jury duties were over, but he stayed on, intending to make a week of it; Mrs. Todhetley and Lena had left for home. We had dined late, and Tod and I went for a stroll afterwards; leaving the Pater, and an old clergyman, who had dined with us, to their wine. In passing the cooked-meat shop in High-street, we saw a little chap looking in, his face flattened against the panes. Tod laid hold of his shoulder, and the boy turned his brilliant eyes and their hungry expression upon us. "Do you remember me, Dor?" You see, Tod had not forgotten his name. Dor evidently did remember. And whether it was that he felt frightened at being accosted, or whether the sight of us brought back to him the image of the dead sister lying on the rushes, was best known to himself; but he burst out crying. "There's nothing to cry for," said Tod; "you need not be afraid. Could you eat some of that meat?" Something like a shiver of surprise broke over the boy's face at the question; just as though he had had no food for weeks. Tod gave him a shilling, and told him to go in and buy some. But the boy looked at the money doubtingly. "A whole shilling! They'd think I stole it." Tod took back the money, and went in himself. He was as proud a fellow as you'd find in the two counties, and yet he would do all sorts of things that many another glanced askance at. "I want half-a-pound of beef," said he to the man who was carving, "and some bread, if you sell it. And I'll take one of those small pork-pies." "Shall I put the meat in paper, sir?" asked the man: as if doubting whether Tod might prefer to eat it there. "Yes," said Tod. And the customers, working-men and a woman in a drab shawl, turned and stared at him. Tod paid; took it all in his hands, and we left the shop. He did not mind being seen carrying the parcels; but he would have minded letting them know that he was feeding a poor boy. "Here, Dor, you can take the things now," said he, when we had gone a few yards. "Where do you live?" Dor explained after a fashion. We knew Worcester well, but failed to understand. "Not far from the big church," he said; and at first we thought he meant the cathedral. "Never mind," said Tod; "go on, and show us."