head. "What's wrang wi' you? Will I kiss you held and make
it better?" But his mother did not look up--only the big sobs continued
to shake her, and the boy becoming alarmed at this, also began to cry,
as he placed his little head against hers. "Oh, mother, dinna greet," he
sobbed, "and I'll kiss your heid till it's better."

At last she lifted her head, and seeing the naked boy, she caught him in
her arms and crushed him to her breast, as if she would smother him.
This was strange conduct for his usually undemonstrative mother; but it
was nice to be hugged like that, even though she did cry.

"What made you greet, mother?" he queried, for he had never before, in
all his four years, seen his mother cry. For answer she merely caught
him closer to her breast, her hair falling soft and warm all over him as
she did so.

"Was you hungry, mither?" he tried again.

"No' very," she answered, choking back her sobs.

"Are you often hungry, too, mither?" he persisted, feeling encouraged at
getting an answer at last.

"Sometimes," she replied. "But dinna bother me, Rob," she continued.
"Gang away to your bed like a man."

He was silent for a time at this repulse, and lay upon her knee puzzling
over the matter.

"Do you greet when you are hungry?" he enquired, with: wide-eyed
earnestness and surprise.

"There noo," she answered, "don't ask so many questions, Daddy'll not be
long till he is better again, and when he is at work there'll be plenty
of pieces to keep us all from being hungry."

"And will there be jeely for the pieces?" pursued the boy, for it seemed
to him that there had never been a time when there was plenty to eat.

"Yes, we'll get plenty o' jeely too," she replied, drying the remaining
tears from her eyes, and hugging him again to her breast.

"Oh, my," he said, with a deep sigh. "I wish my father was better!" and
the little lips were moistened by his tongue, as if in anticipation of
the coming feast.

Another silence; and then came the query--"What way do we not get plenty
o' pieces when my daddy's no' working? Does folk no' get them then?"

"No, Robin," she answered, "but dinna fash your wee noddle with that.
You'll find out all about it when you get big. Shut your eyes and
mother'll sing, an' you'll go to sleep." And he snuggled in and shut his
eyes, while Mrs. Sinclair gathered him softly to her breast and began to
croon an old ballad.

As she sang it seemed to the boy that there were no such t