"Well?" said Todd.
"Well, sir, I was thinking that—that you might spare a trifle for the children, sir. They are starving—do you hear, Mr. Todd?—they are starving, and have no father now."
"What was the value of the watch-cases your husband had with him, Mrs. Cummins, when he disappeared?"
"About a hundred pounds, sir, they tell me. But don't you believe, sir, for one moment that John deserted me and these—ah no, sir."
"You really think so?"
"I am sure of it, sir, quite—quite sure of it. He loved me, sir, and these—he did indeed, sir. You will help us, Mr. Todd—oh, say that you will do what you can for us."
"Certainly, my good woman—certainly. What is this little fellow's name, Mrs. Cummins?"
"William—William is his name," said the poor woman, in such a flurry from the idea of what Todd was going to do for the children that she could hardly speak, but caught her breath hysterically. "His name is William, Mr. Todd."
"And this little girl, ma'am?"
"Ann, sir—Ann. That is her name, Mr. Todd. The same, if you please, sir, as her poor mother's. Look up, Ann, my dear, and courtesy to the gentleman. God bless you, Mr. Todd, for thinking of me and mine. God bless you, sir!"