“What am I to do; we can’t starve, Billy.” He looked so wan and so woe-begone, as he bent over the little lame child, that it seemed to me that never was a creature so wretched as that desolate boy. The next morning he took away the handkerchief, and in the evening he brought home bread.
Once when he returned, the snow was fast falling, drifting through the roof, and in at the door, till Billy could scarcely find a clear spot on which to rest his languid little frame. He was always on the look-out for his brother, as soon as the sky began to darken. Well might he watch on that day, for he had not broken his fast since the evening before; and his lips were blue with hunger and cold, and he was lonely, very lonely, in the shed.
Presently Bob came hastily in; we had not heard his step on the soft snow. The flakes were resting on his rags and whitening his hair, as he threw himself down by his brother.
“Oh! Billy!” he exclaimed, and burst into tears.
“What have you got?” cried the little one joyfully. “A big loaf!” and he tore it asunder in his eager haste, and ate like a famished creature.
“And see this!” said Bob; and he wrapped round the shivering child a warm cloak which he had carried on his arm.
Billy opened his eyes with an expression of astonishment, which brightened into joy as he felt the unwonted warmth. “Oh! Bob!” he exclaimed, with his mouth full of bread; “where did you get this? Did you steal it?”
“No; and I’ll never steal no more; never, never!” and the boy sank his head down upon his chest, and sobbed. I had never seen him shed a tear till that day.
“Tell me all about it, tell me!” cried Billy, almost frightened by his brother’s unwonted emotion; but it was a little time before Bob made reply.
“I followed he—a fine, tall gemman. I had my fingers in his pocket, and he clapped his hand on ’em, and catched me!”