If only she could rest somewhere; she was so tired—oh, so tired and thirsty. There was a drinking-fountain not far distant, and she dragged her failing limbs there, and drank some of the fresh water out of the tin cup, but that made her feel more hungry than ever. If poor mother could but come to help her! Ailie felt so utterly alone. Nobody in all the world to care for her, except mother, away for two months in jail—nobody else except the Forsyths, and she dared not go near them, for they would only send her to the workhouse. Ailie was so desolate that she wanted to cry, but somehow tears would not come, and the dry sobs which she could not check made her feel worse and worse.
A baker's shop stood just across the way with such tempting beautiful wonderful loaves in the window Ailie thought that to have one of those loaves would be perfect happiness. She would care for nothing else in all the world then. Such an unhappy-looking child passed at that moment, dressed in white muslin, and with two great buns in her hand. How could she look unhappy when she had two whole buns of her own? Ailie did wonder at the sight. Not that she wanted buns herself. She only wanted some bread—ever so dry, ever so hard, ever so little—just to check this burning terrible hunger. And, leaning against the wall, Ailie sobbed again tearless sobs of anguish.
"What's the matter?" asked a voice, and Ailie looked up. A little girl of about her own age stood in front of her, dressed in a pretty pink frock, with a straw hat and one long black feather across it, and delicately-gloved hands, which were folded over a tiny terrier lying asleep in her arms. She gazed wonderingly at Ailie. "What's the matter?" she repeated. "Have you had a beating?"
"No," said Ailie.
"Or have you spilt some milk, or broken a jug? That's like the poor little girls in story-books," added the child to herself.
"I'm so hungry," whispered Ailie, hanging her head.
"Why don't you go home to tea?" asked the little girl.
"I've nowhere to go," said Ailie, in a choked voice.
"Why, where do you live?"
"I've been under the stairs all night, an' they wants to send me to the work'us—and, oh! I don't want to go," sobbed Ailie, with catches in her breath.