Perry's
mind was taken up with the making of the tea.
While they sat on each side of the hearth, drinking their tea and
eating their crusts of bread, she wished Miss Rose could know about
this little waif, who seemed really not a bad little waif, but honest
and very thoughtful and kind. She wanted her advice as to what to do
about her. Already her feelings towards the child had changed so
much that she did not like to think of sending her away in the
morning, to wander on alone again, with no home, no money or food,
and no protection but Dick.
Dick might be killed, or stolen, and then the poor little soul would
be alone in the world. Huldah looked up eagerly at her hostess more
than once, but, though she was longing to ask some more questions,
she did not like to interrupt her while she gazed with such grave,
thoughtful eyes into the fire.
At last Mrs. Perry roused herself from her thoughts, with a tired
sigh, and brought her eyes back to Huldah again. "Have a bit more
bread," she urged, kindly, seeing that the little brown hand was
empty. "You must be hungry."
Huldah was always hungry, but she was not accustomed to any notice
being taken of the fact. "No, thank you, ma'am," she said, politely.
She had already guessed that her kind protector was very poor, and
she knew well what a difference every slice made to a loaf, so she
said, "No, thank you, ma'am," though she could really have eaten the
whole of the nice brown crusty top.
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