'Stop a bit, my little Casabianca; a car will be along in fifteen minutes; and while waiting you can warm yourself over there,' said John, with the purple hand in his.
'My name's Jack Hill, not Cassy Banks, please, sir,' said the little party, with dignity.
'Have you had your supper, Mr. Hill?' asked John, laughing.
'I had some peanuts, and two sucks of Joe's orange; but it warn't very fillin',' he said, gravely.
'I should think not. Here! one stew; and be quick, please,' cried John, as we sat down in a warm corner of the confectioner's opposite.
While little Jack shovelled in the hot oysters, with his eyes shutting up now and then in spite of himself, we looked at him and thought again of little Rosy-face at home safe in his warm nest, with mother-love watching over him. Nodding towards the ragged, grimy, forlorn, little creature, dropping asleep over his supper like a tired baby, I said,—
'Can you imagine our Freddy out alone at this hour, trying to 'work off' his papers, because afraid to go home till he has?'
'I'd rather not try,' answered brother John, winking hard, as he stroked the little head beside him, which, by the bye, looked very like a ragged, yellow door-mat. I think brother John winked hard, but I can't be sure, for I know I did; and for a minute there seemed to be a dozen little newsboys dancing before my eyes.
'There goes our car; and it's the last,' said John, looking at me.
'Let it go, but don't leave the boy;' and I frowned at John for hinting at such a thing.