"Dyin'! No, I knowed he couldn't last long. What's to do about him?"
Esther slowly removed her ragged bonnet and shawl before answering.
"No, I've got no work," she said at length, in a calm tone, which was far removed from indifference. "Seems to me there's none to be had. I don't know what we'll come to. Have ye had your supper, all of ye?"
"I gave it the little ones—the crusts as was left for them," came in soft tones from the blue-eyed child upon the floor. "Father wouldn't take none, nor Hor wouldn't."
"Nor Lettie didn't want to, neither, but I made her," said the elder boy,—adding abruptly, "Mother, there hasn't a crumb passed your lips this day. D'ye think we'll eat up all, an' see you starve afore our faces?"
Esther went to the little cupboard, and brought out a small plate of crusts. "It's all there is," she said. "There ain't much left now as is worth puttin' in pawn, and if work don't come—" Then after a pause, "John, we'll spare the child a bit."
"Take it out your own children's mouths to put into a stranger's!" said John, moodily.
"She's eaten nought to-day, have ye, Ailie?"
"No, nor since yesterday morning," responded Ailie, with longing eyes.
Esther cast an appealing look at her husband.