"We are not going to hurt you, my child," I said. "We are your friends. You have nothing to fear from us." "I aint got no friends," she sobbed, "and I aint done no 'arm. Oh, please, please, let me go away!" "Where to?" I asked. "I don't know, I don't know," she sobbed. "Please don't do nothink to me, and let me go away." "You shall go away if you like," I said, to soothe her, "but you must dress yourself first, you know." "I will this minute, sir, if you'll only let me alone. Oh, my! oh, my! What shall I do, what shall I do?" "You shall be let alone--you shall do exactly what you want to do. Only believe, my child, that we are really your friends and that we want to help you. You went to bed hungry, did you not?" "Yes, I did, sir. I 'ad three boxes of matches, and I couldn't sell 'em, though I tried ever so. I've been all day at it, and nobody'd buy a box or give me a ha'penny." "Been all day at it," I said, the tears starting to my eyes at the infinite pathos in the girl's voice; "you have been hungry all day?" "Yes, sir, I 'ave," she answered plaintively. "I'm used to it. A boy give me a bit of bread this morning, and nothink else 'as passed my mouth all the blessed day." "He was a good boy to be so kind to you." I turned to Bob. "Would you mind going upstairs alone, Bob, and bringing down some bread and butter and sausage. Then the little girl will believe that we wish to be as good to her as the boy was this morning." Bob did not hesitate. All his fears had vanished, and he hastened from the kitchen, and soon returned with food and a cup of cold tea. Meanwhile I continued to speak to the child in my kindest tones, and she mustered courage to peep at me two or three times, and each time, I was pleased to observe, with renewed confidence. Once she asked why I had asked the gentleman if he wouldn't mind going upstairs alone, and I replied that my friend was rather timid because the house was so lonely. "It is, sir," she said upon this; "it's awful!" "In what way, my dear?" I inquired, but she closed her lips, firmly, and did not answer. I did not urge her, deeming it prudent not to press her until her confidence in us was completely won. "Now, my dear," I said upon Bob's return, "sit up and eat this. The tea is cold, but we will give you a cup of hot tea presently if you care to have it. And see--I will buy your matches of you. Here is sixpence for them." Her eyes, with wonder in them, were raised to mine, and her hot fingers closed over the coin, as she tremblingly sat up in her wretched bed, and wiped her tears away with her naked arm. "Thank yer, sir," she murmured, and she began to eat and drink. Never in my life have I beheld a human being devour food so eagerly and ravenously, and she made no pause till she had drained the cup and disposed of every crumb. "Do you feel better?" I asked, with a smiling nod at her. "Ever so much, sir; thank yer kindly," she said humbly and gratefully. "I'm good for another day."