Another brave effort at the plain breakfast, and the answer came:
“It’s pretty long to me. It seems—forever since yesterday!”
The lady could not endure the sight of Josephine’s evident distress and softly slipped a morsel of juicy steak upon the oatmeal saucer. With gaze still averted the spoon came down into the dish, picked up the morsel, and conveyed it to the reluctant mouth. The red lips closed, smacked, opened, and the child faced about. With her napkin to hide the movement she carefully replaced the morsel on the empty plate beside the saucer and said, reproachfully:
“You oughtn’t to done that, Mrs. Kimono. Don’t you s’pose it’s bad enough to be just starved, almost, and not be tempted? That’s like big Bridget; and my mamma has to speak right sharp to her, she has. Quite often, too. Once it was pudding, and I—I ate it. Then I had to do myself sorry all over again. Please ’xcuse me.”
“You strange child! Yes, I will excuse you. I’m leaving table myself. You mustn’t attempt to go back through the train to our car alone. Eh? What? Beg pardon?” she said, turning around.
An official in uniform was respectfully addressing the lady:
“Pardon, madam, but I think this must be my little ‘Parcel.’ I’ve been looking for her. Did you have your breakfast, little girl?”
“Yes, thank you,” she answered.
“I hope you enjoyed it.”
“I didn’t much,” was her frank reply to this kind wish.