Just then a little figure in blue gingham ran out and came fluttering after him, accompanied by Bran, in a state of riotous delight. Rosy and breathless, Letty hurried to him, and, looking up with a face full of the innocent compassion that never can offend, she said, offering a parcel neatly folded up,—
"Aunt Liddy sends you some dinner; and this, so that you needn't walk, unless you like, you are so lame."
As if more touched than he cared to show, the man took the food, but gently put away the little roll of greenbacks, saying quickly,—
"Thank you for this; but I can't take your money."
"We ain't rich, but we love to help folks. So you needn't be proud about it." And Letty looked ruffled at his refusal.
"I'll take something else, if you don't mind," said the tramp, pulling off his hat, with a sudden smile that made his face look young and comely.
"What is it?" And Letty looked up so innocently that it was impossible to resist the impulse of a grateful heart.
His answer was to stoop and kiss the blooming cheek, that instantly grew scarlet with girlish shame and anger as she turned to fly. Catching her by the hand, he said penitently,—
"I couldn't help it, you're so good to me. Don't begrudge me a kiss for luck. I need it, God knows!"
The man's real destitution and despair broke out in these words, and he grasped the little hand as if it was the only thing that kept him from the manifold temptations of a desperate mood.