"I know it's dirty, Miss," whimpered Billy, "but it's the first food
I've seen for four days."
Instantly Elaine was full of sympathy. She had taken the food away.
That would not suffice.
"What's your name, little boy?" she asked.
"Billy," he replied, blubbering.
"Where do you live?"
"With me mother and father—they're sick—nothing to eat—"
He was whimpering an address far over on the East Side.
"Get into the car," Elaine directed.
"Gee—but this is swell," he cried, with no fake, this time.
On they went, through the tenement canyons, dodging children and pushcarts, stopping first at a grocer's, then at a butcher's and a delicatessen. Finally the car stopped where Billy directed. Billy hobbled out, followed by Elaine and her chauffeur, his arms piled high with provisions. She was indeed a lovely Lady Bountiful as a crowd of kids quickly surrounded the car.