“We’re as poor in one way,” said Meg, “but we worked, and saved money to come. It isn’t much, but we can do without something that would cost fifty cents, and that will pay for his ticket.”
The woman’s chin trembled more still.
“Well,” she said, ”I—I—O Lord!” And she threw her apron over her head and sat down suddenly.
Meg went over to her, not exactly knowing why.
“We could not bear to go ourselves,” she said. “And he is like us.”
She was thinking, as she spoke, that this woman and her boy were very fond of each other. The hands holding the apron were trembling as his had done. They dropped as suddenly as they had been thrown up. The woman lifted her face eagerly.
“What were you thinking of going without?” she asked. “Was it things to eat?”
“We—we’ve got some hard-boiled eggs,” faltered Meg, a little guiltily.
“There’s hot mush in the pan,” said the woman. “There’s nothing to eat with it, but it’s healthier than cold eggs. Sit down and eat some.”
And they did, and in half an hour they left the poor house, feeling full-fed and fresh. With them went Ben—his mother standing on the steps looking after him—his pale old face almost flushed and young, as it set itself toward the City Beautiful.