"Thanks, no. You don't appear to have much to spare."
With a sigh of manifest relief, the child gathered up the crumpled top of the bag once more.
"I did have some," he explained; "but I gave half of it to a boy. Vat's what my Sunday-school teacher said I must do. And ven, by and by, I took his hoop," he added, as he resumed his march.
"Did your Sunday-school teacher tell you to do that?"
"No; but I just fought I would. He couldn't give me half of it, you see, for it wouldn't be good for anyfing if it was busted."
"No?" The stranger felt that the child's logic was better than his moral tone.
"I'm going to be good now, all ve time," the boy went on, looking up with an angelic smile. "When my mamma says 'No, Mac,' I shall say 'All right,' and when my papa smites me, I shall turn ve uvver also. Vat's ve way."
"Does he smite you?"
The smile vanished, as the child slowly nodded three times.
"Yes, awful."