But the poor woman waved the food away, still keeping one hand resolutely over her eyes. "No—no!" she said faintly, "no—no!"
Her husband lifted the plate softly from her lap: she started, looked eagerly around, and sunk back in her chair with a hysterical laugh.
"The strawberries! the strawberries, Benjamin! Only think, if Julia could not sell the strawberries she will eat them, you know, all—all. Only think what a feast the child will have when she has all those strawberries! Bring back the meat; what will she care for that?"
The old man brought back the plate, but with a sorrowful look. He remembered that the strawberries entrusted to his grandchild were the property of another; but he could not find the heart to suggest this to the poor famished creature before him, and he rejoiced at the brief delusion that would induce her to eat the little that was left. With martyr-like stoicism he stifled his own craving hunger, and sat by while his wife devoured the remainder of the precious store.
"And you have had none," she said, with a piteous look of self-reproach, when her own sharp want was somewhat appeased.
"Oh, I can wait for Julia and the strawberries."
"And if that should fail," answered the poor wife, filled with remorse at her selfishness, or what she began to condemn as such, "if anything should have happened, you may pawn or sell the quilt to-morrow—I will say nothing against it—not a word. It was used for the first time when—when she was a baby, and—"
"And we have starved and suffered rather than part with it!" cried the old man, moving gloomily up and down the room, "while she—"
"Is dead and buried, I am afraid," said the woman, interrupting him.