"And what was that?" asked the Professor.
The woman seemed to resent the question from a well-dressed stranger.
"It weren't ham and eggs," she said, curtly.
"Tell my friend here what you gave them, Mrs. B——" Crooks requested.
"Well, it's just like this here, Mr. Crooks," she said apologetically. "My man's out of work hisself, and we on'y had one loaf, so I cuts it up between her children and mine."
"Why is she crying now?"
"She ain't been used to it like some of us, and it's all along of her wondering where the children's next meal is a-coming from."
As the two men came away, "I'm proud of the poor," said Crooks. "And I declare it's a dirty insult for outsiders to say that these people are degraded by the feeble efforts I make as a Guardian to give bread to the hungry. It's nothing to what they do for each other. That woman sharing her last loaf with another woman's children is typical of what you'll find in every street and corner of Poplar where the pinch of hunger is felt."
The Professor walked on silently.