'Then we must keep it,' I said stoutly.
When I awoke the next morning, my mother was kneeling by my bedside, and when she saw my eyes resting on her face, she clasped me in her arms, and so we lay for fully half an hour, without a word being spoken. There was a little milk left for breakfast, and this my mother made into very weak milk-and-water. The bread she cut into four slices. One she ate, two she gave to me, and one she put into the cupboard. She laid the battered halfpenny on the mantelshelf.
'Now, Chris,' she said, as she put on her poor worn bonnet, 'when you are hungry you can eat the slice of bread that's in the cupboard; and if I am not at home before you are hungry again, you can buy some bread with that halfpenny. Kiss me, dear child.'
'But, mother,' I remonstrated, you are too ill to go out. You ought to stay at home to-day.'
I dare not, child. I must go out. Why, doesn't my Chris want his supper to-night, and his dinner to-morrow? And don't I want my supper and dinner, too?'
'Are you going to the workshop, mother?'
'I am going that way, child.'
But I begged her to promise that she would try and be home early, and she was compelled to promise, to satisfy me. With faltering steps she left the room, and walked slowly downstairs. I felt that there was something wrong, but I did not understand it, and certainly would have been powerless to remedy it. I was soon hungry enough to eat the slice of bread; and then I went out, and strolled restlessly about the streets. It was a cold day, and I was glad to get indoors again, although there was no fire. In the afternoon I was hungry again, and mother had not returned. Should I spend the halfpenny? I took it from the mantelshelf. The gift of a fairy in a cotton-print dress! I turned it this way and that, in the endeavour to find some special charm in it. It was as common a halfpenny as I had ever looked upon. I saw no angel's face in it. But my mother said there was, and that was enough. No; I could not spend it. Then I thought that it was unkind of me to let my mother, ill and weak as she was, go out by herself. I reproached myself; I might have helped her on. She promised to return soon; perhaps she was not strong enough to return. These reproachful thoughts and my hunger grew upon me, and my uneasiness increased, until I became very wretched indeed. As dusk was falling, I made up my mind that a certain duty was before me. I must walk into the City to the shop for which my mother used to work, and seek for her. I had been to the place two or three times to take work home, and I knew my way pretty well. Perhaps I should meet my mother on the road. Off I started on my self-imposed task. My increasing hunger made the distance appear twice as long as it really was, and I could not help lingering and longing for a little while at a fine cook-shop, the perfume which pervaded it being more fragrant to me at the time than all the perfumes of Arabia would have been. When I arrived at the workshop, it was closed. There was nothing for it but to turn my face homeward. Weary, hungry, and dispirited, I commenced my journey back; I was anxious to get home quickly now, to lessen the chance of my mother returning while I was absent. In my eagerness and confusion I missed my way, and it was quite ten o'clock at night when I found myself in a street which was familiar to me, and which I knew to be about two miles from the street in which we lived. The neighbourhood in which I was now was a busy one; a kind of market was held there every Saturday night, in which poor people could purchase what they required a trifle cheaper than they could be supplied at the regular shops. There were a great glare of lights and a great hurly-burly of noise which in my weak condition confused and frightened me. I staggered feebly on, and stumbled against a man who was passing me in a great hurry. He caught hold of my arm with such force as to swing me round; and without any effort on my part to escape, for I was almost unconscious, I slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. I think I heard the words, Unmanly brute uttered in a female voice; but my next distinct remembrance is that I was standing on my feet, swaying slightly, and held up by the man I had run against. He spoke to me in sharp tones, and demanded to know where I was running to. I begged his pardon humbly, but in tones too faint to reach his ear, for he inquired roughly if I had a tongue in my head. There were a few persons standing about us, and one or two women told the man he ought to be ashamed of himself, and asked him what he meant by it, and why he didn't leave the boy alone. In sneering reply he called them a parcel of wise women.
'Did you ever see a thief of his size?' he asked.
'I am not a thief,' I said, in a faint tone. 'Let me go. I want to get home.'