“Mrs. Smith, we haven’t had anything to eat in our house these three days.” The boy’s voice broke as he said this, and tears fell from the eyes he lifted to that woman’s face, whose kindness he could only see through a mist. “Not had anything to eat in three days, and I here! Oh, Jimmy Laurence! what were you all thinking about? It’s too bad, there!” Mrs. Smith drew a plump arm across her eyes as she spoke, then seizing the lad by both hands, she fell to kissing him over the counter, then gave him a box on the ear, and pushed him away. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t your mother just step over and tell _me_ about it? Business is business, but this—— I’ve no patience with you, Jimmy Laurence, nor none of your tribe.” “But we did not know. He said——” “_He_ said. He can say anything he likes when there’s no woman by with a will of her own. Now come round here this very minute and tell me what you want.” “Oh, Mrs. Smith, you are so good! I didn’t mean to beg for things, or run in debt more than we have; but we must have something to eat, or—or more of us will be down sick; but I mean to work for it—that is what I came for. There is a load of coal coming to-morrow morning. I want to bring it in for you.” “You, Jimmy! You bring in coal, poor, slender, pale-faced darling!” Little Jim flushed all over at this insinuation against his manliness, and rolling up the sleeve of his jacket, exposed a delicate, white arm, with the little hand clenched, and blue veins thus forced to notice on the wrist. “See, Mrs. Smith,” he said, “there’s muscle for a boy; lean, but tough—just feel it.” Mrs. Smith did span the delicate wrist with her thumb and finger, feeling the quick pulse stir feebly to the touch, and turned away her face to keep the boy from seeing how close she was to tears—an unusual thing with her. “Yes, I see; not much flesh to spare.” “No; some fellows have lots, you know—but that don’t make ’em powerful. Mrs. Smith, just look at the boys that ride circus horses, and jump through hoops, how lean they keep ’em. Just let me feed up a little, and I shall be in prime working order.” “Well,” answered the woman, laughing away the tears that had actually begun to float in her blue eyes, “we will feed you up and try.” “That’s splendid,” cried the boy, pulling down his jacket-sleeve, which was far too short, and woefully thread-bare. “Then I was thinking of another thing. Saturday nights you are so busy, and have lots of things to carry home—couldn’t I do some of that just as well as the bigger boys? You don’t know how spry I am. Now a basket like that is nothing to me.” Here the noble little fellow lifted down a basket of groceries that stood on the counter, ready to be carried home, and dragged it, staggering and breathless, across the floor, where he gave way and fell across it, utterly insensible.