"Please, ma'am," said Pollie, "will you let me have a new-laid egg for mother?"
The woman took an egg from a basket and gave it to her.
"If you please, is it quite fresh? because mother is so poorly, and I want it to do her good."
The shopkeeper looked at the earnest little face, and somehow felt she could not tell an untruth to the child, the brown eyes were raised so trustingly.
"Well, my little gal, I can't say as it be quite fresh, but it's as good as any you'll get about here."
"Then I'd better not have it," said the child, giving it back to the woman again; "only I did so want to get her something nice for her tea,—she can't eat much." And the lips quivered with suppressed sorrow at the disappointment.
"Why don't you get her a bit of meat instead?" asked the woman; "that'll do her good, I warrant!"
"Will this buy some?" questioned the child with brightened eyes, and opening her hand she showed the shilling. "To be sure it will. Here, give it to me; I'll go and get you one pound of nice pieces at my brother's next door, if you'll just mind the shop till I come back; you can be trusted, I see," replied the mistress of the place, whose woman's heart was touched by the little girl's distress.
Pollie stood where she was left, guarding the baskets with watchful eyes. Fortunately no mischievous people were about, so the vegetables were safe, though it was with no small relief she saw their owner return with such nice pieces of meat wrapped up in clean paper.
"There," said the greengrocer's wife (whose name was Mrs. Smith, by the way), "these are good and fresh; my brother let me choose them, and have them cheap too, only fourpence a pound!"