"That's right! I'm glad you're such a generous little girl, and I am much obliged to you for doing the errand. Good-by."
"Good-by'm; thankee mum!" was Nora's hearty answer, as she hurried home to show her treasures, before it should be necessary to hide them from the father whom drink had transformed into a brute; to be avoided if possible, and if not, to be fed and cajoled, then, if still implacable, fled from in terror as from any other ferocious, untamable beast.
Sara took from the bundles oranges, grapes, biscuit, and sliced ham, the sick girl watching her, meanwhile, with eyes that grew brighter every moment.
"Now we'll have supper together," said Sara, arranging them neatly on the little stand; "for I'm getting hungry too, and while we're eating, we'll talk things over. That tea and toast will do for first course, try this bunch of grapes and the sandwich I am fixing for the second."
Bertha took them with a delighted air.
"Oh, how good! We used to have grapes at home; and father always cured his own hams. I was never really hungry in my life till nowadays. We've always been poor, and sometimes I didn't have any best dress, but there was never any lack of food. Do you know"—solemnly—"it's an awful thing to get so hungry? I could have stolen—murdered almost—for food, only I didn't dare touch anything for fear of jail. All my ideas of right and wrong were confused, and for the time I was more of a wild beast than any thing else—oh, it was dreadful!"
Sara gently touched the thin hand.
"Poor girl!" she murmured, "I know something of it too!" then aloud,
"Bertha, how would the place of a companion suit you?"
"A companion?"
"Yes, to an invalid lady. I know of a Mrs. Searle who needs one. She is rich, and ought to pay well; but she would want somebody who could read intelligibly—and I suspect it would require infinite patience to put up with her whims."