“‘Don’t think anything, dear,’ said Mrs. Meadow, ‘till we know something more. We’ll get the child to let it out. Poor little creature! I wish I could keep him out of that place.’
“‘I don’t believe he can have a good home, mother, in his father’s house. I am sure he can’t. That Finch is a bad man.’
“‘It’s the more pity if it isn’t a good home,’ said Mrs. Meadow, ‘for it is very little he sees of it. It’s too much for such a morsel of a creature to work all day long.’
“‘But they are kind at the pin-factory, mother. People say they are.’
“‘Mr. Carroll is a nice man,’ said her mother. ‘But nine hours is nine hours. Poor little creature!’
“‘He looks thinner and paler now than he did six months ago.’
“‘Yes; and then it was winter, and now it is summer,’ said Mrs. Meadow.
“‘I wish I knew what he wants to do with that milk!’ said Silky.
“The next morning Norman was there again. He put himself and his jug only half in at the door, and said, somewhat doubtfully,—
“‘Come!—come in—come in to the fire; it’s chilly out of doors. You’re in good time, aren’t you?’
“‘Yes,—but I can’t stay,’ said the boy, coming in however, and coming slowly up to the fire. But he came close, and his two hands spread themselves to the blaze as if they liked it, and the poor little bare feet shone in the firelight on the hearth. It was early, very cool and damp abroad.
“‘I’ll get you the milk,’ said Silky, taking the jug;—‘you stand and warm yourself. You’ve plenty of time.’
“She came back with the jug in one hand and a piece of cold bacon in the other, which she offered to Norman. He looked at it, and then grabbed it, and began to eat immediately. Silky stood opposite to him with the jug.
“‘What’s this milk for, Norman?’ she said, pleasantly.
“He stopped eating and looked troubled directly.
“‘Now?—home now? Are you going back with it now?’
“‘Nothing,’ said Norman, looking at his piece of bacon, and seeming almost ready to cry;—‘I don’t do nothing with it.’
“‘You needn’t be afraid to tell me, dear,’ Silky said, gently. ‘I’m not going to do you any harm. Does your mother know you get it?’
“He waited a good while, and then when she repeated the question, taking another look at Silky’s kind quiet face, he said half under his breath,—