“Reordan shall be treasurer of the blind kid’s fund,” said one.
“There’s enough already to buy more than he can eat in a week,” replied Reordan, shaking up the hat to enjoy the jingling sound of the coins.
“Please will you show me where I can wash?” asked a gentle voice; and there stood the blind kid, who had approached unnoticed. “If you will show me once, I can find it for myself afterwards.”
“Here you are, young man,” replied Reordan, leading him to the sink where the men washed. “Here’s the water-faucet, and here’s the soap; and while you’re making your toilet I’ll step out and fetch your breakfast.”
“Why not take him along with us?” asked one of the men.
“He isn’t in just the rig for a cold morning,” replied Reordan. “The looks of the thing, to say nothing of his own feelings, goes against it. Wait till he has a hat and coat. I’ll fetch his breakfast, and while he’s eating it we’ll go for ours.”
“And when we come back we’ll hear his story, and see what account he has to give of himself,” said another.
The boy made himself quite tidy, considering the poor clothes he had on; and the men, after seating him at the table with a good breakfast before him, went out for theirs.
How good it did taste to the poor little waif! Only hot coffee and buttered rolls, but it was a feast for the poor child, who for several weeks had eaten his meals whenever he could get them, and little enough at that.