oking
down upon her as a very disagreeable social curiosity.

"There aint no more, if I hain't," said the curiosity, with
very dauntless eyes.

"Where do you get your dinner every day?"

"'Long street," said the girl, turning her eyes away from
Elizabeth and looking out into the storm.

"Do you often go without any?"

"When the folks don't give me none."

"Does that happen often?"

"They didn't give me none to-day."

"What do you do then?"

The eyes came back from the door to Elizabeth, and then went
to Winthrop.

"What do you do then?" Elizabeth repeated.

"I gets 'em."

"You didn't get any to-day?" said Winthrop.

She shook her head.

"You mustn't any more."

"Nobody ha'n't no business to let me starve," said the blackey
stoutly.

"No, but I'll tell you where to go the next time you can't get
a dinner, and you shall have it without stealing."

"I ha'n't stole it -- nobody never see me steal -- I only tuk
it," -- said the girl with a little lowering of her voice and
air.

"What's your name?"

"Clam."

"Clam!" said Elizabeth, -- "where did you get such an odd
name?"

"'Long street," said the girl, her black eyes twinkling.

"Where did you get it?" said Winthrop gravely.

"I didn't get it nowheres -- it was guv to me."

"What's your other name?"

"I ha'n't got no more names -- my name's Clam."

"What's your mother's name?"

"She's Sukey Beckinson."

"Is she kind to you?" asked Elizabeth.

"_I_ don' know!"

"Did you have dinner enough?" said Winthrop with a smile.

Clam jumped up, and crossing her hands on her breast dropped a
brisk little courtsey to her benefactor. She made no other
answer, and then sat down again.

"Are you afraid to go home with your empty basket when the
storm's over?" said he kindly.

"No," she said; but it was with a singular expression of cold
and careless necessity.

"The rest of the basketful wouldn't be worth more than that,
would it?" said he giving her a sixpence.

Clam took it and clasped it very tight in her fist, for other
place of security she had none; and looked at him, but made no
more answer than that.

"You won't forget where to come the next time you can't get an
honest dinner," said he. "The corner of Beaver and Little
South Streets. You know where it is? That is where I live. Ask
for Mr. Landholm."

Clam nodded and said, "I know!"

"I hope you'll get some supper to-night," said he.

"I will!" said Clam determinately.

"