“I have no money to give you, but if you will come to our house I’ll give you some supper.”
“Where do you live?”
“About five minutes’ walk.”
“Go ahead, then; I’m with you.”
Mrs. Rand looked up with surprise when the door opened and Chester entered, followed by an ill-looking tramp, whose clothes were redolent of tobacco, and his breath of whisky.
“Mother,” said Chester, “this man tells me that he hasn’t had anything to eat since yesterday.”
“No more I haven’t,” spoke up the tramp, in a hoarse voice.
“He asked for some money. I could not give him that, but I told him we would give him some supper.”
“Of course we will,” said Mrs. Rand, in a tone of sympathy. She did not admire the appearance of her late visitor, but her heart was alive to the appeal of a hungry man.
“Sit down, sir,” she said, “and I’ll make some hot tea, and that with some bread and butter and cold meat will refresh you.”