a-kettle, and Betty was poking in more wood, with a great smirch of
black on her chubby cheek, while Bab was cutting away at the loaf as if
bent on slicing her own fingers off. Before Ben knew what he was about,
he found himself in the old rocking-chair devouring bread and butter as
only a hungry boy can, with Sancho close by gnawing a mutton-bone like a
ravenous wolf in sheep's clothing.

While the new-comers were thus happily employed, Mrs. Moss beckoned the
little girls out of the room, and gave them both an errand.

"Bab, you run over to Mrs. Barton's, and ask her for any old duds Billy
don't want; and Betty, you go to the Cutters, and tell Miss Clarindy I'd
like a couple of the shirts we made at last sewing circle. Any shoes, or
a hat, or socks, would come handy, for the poor dear hasn't a whole
thread on him."

Away went the children full of anxiety to clothe their beggar; and so
well did they plead his cause with the good neighbors, that Ben hardly
knew himself when he emerged from the back bedroom half an hour later,
clothed in Billy Barton's faded flannel suit, with an unbleached cotton
shirt out of the Dorcas basket, and a pair of Milly Cutter's old shoes
on his feet.

Sancho also had been put in better trim, for, after his master had
refreshed himself with a warm bath, he gave his dog a good scrub while
Mrs. Moss set a stitch here and there in the new old clothes; and Sancho
reappeared, looking more like the china poodle than ever, being as white
as snow, his curls well brushed up, and his tasselly tail waving proudly
over his back.

Feeling eminently respectable and comfortable, the wanderers humbly
presented themselves, and were greeted with smiles of approval from the
little girls and a hospitable welcome from the mother, who set them near
the stove to dry, as both were decidedly damp after their ablutions.

"I declare I shouldn't have known you!" exclaimed the good woman,
surveying the boy with great satisfaction; for, though still very thin
and tired, the lad had a tidy look that pleased her, and a lively way of
moving about in his clothes, like an eel in a skin rather too big for
him. The merry black eyes seemed to see every thing, the voice had an
honest sound, and the sunburnt face looked several years younger since
the unnatural despondency had gone out of it.

"It's very nice, and me and Sanch are lots obliged, ma'am," murmured
Ben, getting red and bashful under the three pairs of friendly ey