"She wept now, hanging her head over the baby with despairing sobs.
"'But aren't you all hungry?' I said suddenly.
"She nodded her head.
"Again I flew out, leaving poor little scared Minnie sitting there; and hurrying off to a baker's, bought a stale loaf, and hastened back, ordering on my way a little coal and wood.
"In a few minutes Minnie and I had drawn the shivering little mites from their mother's knees, and had set them near the fireplace, in which I hoped there would soon be a blaze, and had given them some slices of bread, while I handed a piece to poor broken-hearted Martha.
"Then the coals came lumbering up the stairs, and, thanks to mother's teaching, Minnie and I quickly built up a warm little fire, and we had time to look round. Then our eyes fell on the parcel. We opened it with all speed, and arrayed the little cold mortals in the old clothes we had brought, and when the pudding was laid aside for another time, I drew out our third text, that it too might carry its message to these sad hearts: 'Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be rich.'
"'Rich!' said Martha, with a hoarse laugh, reading the words in spite of herself with her dim eyes, as I pinned them up, 'it's little riches I shall ever see!'
"'But what about the baby? If he should die now, will he be poor then, do you think?' I asked softly.
"She moaned as she hugged him tighter. 'I love him more than anything in this world, or out of it,' she exclaimed.
"'And perhaps—oh, Martha, I don't know—but perhaps God loved you too well to let you. You would rather be rich with him there, some day, for ever, than just keep him a little while here?'