A warm feeling surged through Oliver’s heart as he slowly followed, the feeling that always comes when one has done a noble action.
“Poor woman, poor baby,” he murmured to himself. “I hope she gets the medicine and that it cures her Ellie. What a dear baby it was!”
He had hardly gone a dozen steps before he felt a hand upon his shoulder. It was the gaunt-looking boy.
“Will you please help me a little?” he asked pleadingly. “I have been out of work for three weeks and can’t get anything to do anywhere.”
“You are telling the truth?” asked Oliver sharply, to make sure that he was not being deceived.
“Yes, sir. I worked in Haddan’s piano action factory that burnt down.”
“And you cannot get work anywhere?”
“No, sir. Oh, you don’t know how hard I have tried! Every morning I answer the advertisements in the papers, but there are always a hundred men for one place.”
By the way the boy spoke Oliver knew that he told the truth. He hesitated for a moment, and then handed out another dollar.