"No, that I ain't," answered Dick, "mother said you could pick the samphire to-day."
"Yes, but you said you'd help me," said the girl, walking steadily across the sand to the salt-marsh beyond. Here the samphire grew in abundance, and the little girl set to work to fill the two large baskets that stood near.
"You might come and help, Dick," she called, hardly repressing a sob as she spoke.
"Look here, I'll help if you'll just come and make some more of them letters. You said you would, you know," added the boy, still piling up the sand.
"Oh, Dick, you know I can't; you know I've forgot a'most everything since I've been here;" and this time the little girl fairly burst into tears, and sat down beside the half-filled baskets, and sobbed as though her heart would break.
The boy's heart was touched at the sight of her distress, and he ran across to comfort her.
"Don't cry, Tiny; I'll help yer, and then we'll try agin at the letters. I know three—A B C: you'll soon find out about the others, and make 'em in the sand for me."
But Tiny shook her head. "I'd know 'em if I had a book," she said, sadly; "ain't it a pity daddy ain't got one?"
"What 'ud be the good of books to dad?" said Dick. "Harry Hayes has got some, I know; but then he goes to school, and knows all about 'em. There, let's forget we see him with that book yesterday, for it ain't no good for us to think about it," concluded Dick; for he did not like to see Tiny's tears, and the easiest way of banishing them was to forget the original cause, he thought. But the little girl was not of the same opinion. She shook her head sadly as she said—
"I've forgot a'most everything my mother told me."