“I ought to ha’ made you weigh and make up,” he said. “Where’s your scales?”
“Mind your own business.”
“I mean to. Here! I want another sixpenny loaf—but I want it weighed this time!”
“I ain’t bound to sell bread in the streets. You can go to the shop. Them loaves is for reg’lar customers.”
He moved off with his cart, and the crowd began to disperse. The boys stood absorbed, each in what remained of his half-loaf.
When he looked up, Clare saw that they were alone. But he caught sight of their benefactor some way off, and ran after him.
“Oh, sir!” he said, “I was so hungry, I don’t know whether I thanked you for the loaf. We’d had nothing to-day but the sweepings of a mill.”
“God bless my soul!” said the man. “People say there’s a God!” he added.
“I think there must be, sir, for you came by just then!” returned Clare.
“How do you come to be so hard-up, my boy? Somebody’s to blame somewheres!”