"It's a shame to send out such a child on the streets," he said to himself. "Think of my Rob having to lead such a life!"
The policeman looked sober, for, should anything happen to him, as in his exposed life might very well happen, he knew not what would be the fate of his little ones. They might be as badly off as the poor match boy.
The little match boy's thin face showed signs of satisfaction as he looked at the collection of small coins which had been given him by the pitying crowd. He turned into an alleyway and counted it. It amounted to seventy-six cents. This was a phenomenal sum for the small merchant. And the best of it was, he had his stock of merchandise left.
A thought entered the little boy's mind, prompted by his craving for food.
"Would it be wrong for me to take a little of this money and buy me some dinner?" he said to himself. "I am so hungry. Aunt Peggy only gave me a slice of bread for breakfast, and it's most two o'clock now."
Only a slice of bread, and he had been walking about for hours, trying to sell matches. The fruit of all his labor was the sale of two boxes at five cents each. But he had seventy-six cents besides, and they were his. They had not been given to Aunt Peggy, but to him. So, at least, he reasoned. Not that he meant to keep it all himself. He intended to give the greater part to the woman who was the only guardian he knew, but he thought he had a right to use fifteen cents for himself. It wasn't much, but he knew a place—a cheap place—where for this sum he could get a cup of coffee and a plate of beefsteak. At the thought of this delicious repast the match boy's mouth watered. When had he eaten meat? Three days ago Peggy had given him a bone to pick. There was not much on it, but when he had got through with it there was none at all.
Johnny could not resist the temptation. He suspended sales, and made his way to a cheap restaurant on a side street. With eager steps he entered, and sat down at a wooden table from which nearly all the paint had been worn off, and scanned the bill of fare.
It seemed to him that there was nothing better than the dish he had already mentally selected.
A greasy looking waiter approached, and said sharply, "What'll you have, kid?"
"Cup o' coffee an' plate of beefsteak!" answered Johnny.