or--"
Martha eagerly interrupted the hesitating voice,--and it was easily
interrupted! "Yes, yes, gran'father. They'll be sure to let me bring
home some for you. I'll be quite, _quite_ sure to do it."
She made the promise with great decision, as well she might, for she had
made up her mind to pocket all the food that was given to her except
just a small morsel, which she would nibble in order to make believe
that she was feeding!
"Lock the door and put the key in your pocket," said the old man, while
the child tucked in about him the thin torn counterpane which formed the
only covering to his straw bed. "An' don't fear for me, darling. The
Lord is with me. Be sure to eat as much as you can."
Having regard to her secret intentions, Martha refrained from pledging
herself, but she laughed and nodded significantly as she quitted the
cold, dismal, and shabby room.
It was little Martha's first experience of a "free breakfast." She had,
indeed, heard of such a thing before, but had not up to that time met
with anything of the kind, so she advanced to "the hall" with some
timidity and much expectation.
The hall was very full, and, as poor little Martha was rather late, she
could not manage to crush in much beyond the door. Besides, being
small, she could see nothing. In these depressing circumstances her
heart began to sink, when her attention was attracted by a slight stir
outside the door. A lady and gentleman were coming in. It so happened
that the lady in passing trod upon one of Martha's cold little toes, and
drew from the child a sharp cry.
"Oh, my dear, _dear_ little girl!" cried the shocked lady, with a gush
of self-reproach and sympathy, "I'm _so_ sorry--so _very, very_ sorry.
It was so stupid of me! Have I hurt you much, _dear_ little girl?
Come--come with me."
"Bring her to the stove, Matty, there's more room there to have it
looked to," said the gentleman, in a kind voice.
Much consoled by all this, though still whimpering, little Martha
suffered herself to be led to the front seats, and set on a bench just
below the platform, where she began to bloom under the genial influence
of the stove, and to wonder, with inexpressible surprise, at the mighty
sea of upturned faces in front of her. As for the toe, it was utterly
forgotten. The lady's foot, you see, being almost as light as her
heart, had done it no serious injury. Nevertheless, she continued for a
few minutes to inspect it ear
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