"Come in here, little 'uns," she said, putting her head out of the room door. "Bless me, you look famished. Got any breakfast?"
"No," said Bob; "we was going to see if we could earn some money, so's we could buy some."
"Where's yer mother?" she asked shortly.
"She's been dead a long while," answered Bob.
"Yes," chimed in Willie. "Mother's dead, and we've runned away from father. He beat us."
"Poor little chap!" said the woman, looking at the younger boy. And then she made him sit by the fire, while she poured out two cups of steaming hot coffee. It was very weak, hardly more than coloured water, but to the little waifs it was the most delicious thing they had tasted for months, and as they drank their coffee and ate their bread and butter, the woman's heart warmed towards them. She smiled several times at Willie's chatter, as he told of the life on the streets.
"Soon's we can get enuf money," he said, "Bob'll buy me a broom, then I'll 'elp."
"Wouldn't you like to help now?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "but brooms cost a lot o' money."
"So they do," said the woman. "Besides, you're not big enough yet, but you could sell some matches, couldn't you? See, I'll lend you this sixpence to get some with," and then she told Bob the best place to buy them, and how his little brother was to sell them.