"I canna gang hame for ma faither: he's drunk, and he'll no' let's in."
"Have you had any dinner?"
"Uch, no. A'm no heedin' for't," with a fine carelessness.
Elizabeth tilted her umbrella over her shoulder the better to survey the situation. There was certainly little prospect of refreshment in this grey street which seemed to contain nothing but rain, but the sharp ting-ting of an electric tram passing in the street above brought her an idea, and she caught the boy's arm.
"Come on, Bob, and we'll see what we can get."
Two minutes brought them to a baker's shop, with very good-looking things in the window and a fat, comfortable woman behind the counter.
"Isn't this a horrible day, Mrs. Russel?" said Elizabeth. "And here's a friend of mine who wants warming up. What could you give him to eat, I wonder?"
Mrs. Russel beamed as if feeding little dirty ragged boys was just the thing she liked best to do.
"It's an awful day, as you say, Miss Seton, an' the boy's wet through. Whit would ye say to a hot tupp'ny pie an' a cup-o'-tea? The kettle's juist on the boil; I've been havin' a cup masel'—a body wants something to cheer them this weather." She laughed cheerily. "He could take it in at the back—there's a rare wee fire."
"That'll be splendid," said Elizabeth; "won't it Bob?"