"I wish it wasn't beggars we have to look for; they're so dirty and rude," said Daffy discontentedly.
But on their way home fortune seemed to favour them. They came across a little boy with a white face and ragged coat sitting in the hedge. His feet were bare, and he was clutching a bundle which rested on his knees. Freda and Daffy pounced upon him immediately.
"Are you thirsty?"
"Hungry, are you?"
"Sick?"
"Do you want a nice bed to-night to go to sleep on?"
The boy looked at them with rather frightened eyes, and didn't speak.
"Who are you, and where do you live?" asked Freda, trying to speak more quietly. "You must be quick and answer, because Jane will be interfering, so make haste."
The boy jerked his thumb back over his shoulder.
"My feyther be on his rounds. He've gone over to them there 'ouses to mend their pots and pans."