"And what for would ye grudge the child the little comfort she has?" said Bill Hogan, turning toward his son in a threatening manner.
"And aren't ye glad to go home and see the baby, Pat?" inquired the child, laying her hand caressingly on his arm.
The boy shook her off without replying, and presently, her father having received the small sum due him for coal and junk, started to leave the field.
All around them the rag pickers were crying out for the carts, impatient to be gone, and Dilly, passing some children of her acquaintance, in a glad tone said, "I've got a baby, I have!"
When they were near the street where they lived, Bill Hogan stopped at a grocer's to buy some meal and a loaf of bread. He wanted to buy an ounce of tea for his sick wife, but after looking at the few coppers left in his hand, turned with a sigh from the counter.
In a few minutes they were at their own door. Dilly pulled her hand from her father, and darted up the rickety stairs.
"I want to see my baby!" she exclaimed, in an eager tone.
"Hush, child, the poor little cratur's slaping," said the mother softly.
Mrs. Hogan was sitting up on the straw, leaning against the side of the wall, trying to mend an old shirt for her husband. Her face was very pale, and as Bill and Pat came up the stairs, she cast a wishful glance at them. It said as plainly as looks could speak, "I am hungry. Have you brought me anything?"
The man did not reply, but calling Pat to pick up a few sticks, he took the only kettle in their possession, and went to a neighboring pump for some water.