"You ax him, Nell," whispered Benny; "he winna say no to you."
"May we eat our taters by your fire, Joe?" said the plaintive voice of little Nelly, as she placed her tiny hand on the fence, on which a red light was burning.
"What dost 'a say, little woman?" said Joe, in a rough though not unkindly voice.
"May we eat our taters by your fire, please—Benny an' me?"
"Ay, ay, my little 'arties. Come along, I'll make room for 'e here;" and honest old Joe moved aside to make room for the little waifs who sought shelter from the biting cold.
"By golly, Nell!" said Benny, as he felt the grateful warmth of the fire, and dug his teeth into the potato, "ain't this sumpshus?"
"Ay, Benny," was all the child's answer, as she greedily devoured the two potatoes that Benny had insisted was her share.
Then there was silence between them for awhile, and Joe went out and heaped more fuel on the grate, while Nelly kept her eyes steadily fixed on the fire. What did the child see as she gazed into its glowing depths? For ever and anon a sweet smile played around the corners of her mouth, and spread over her pale thoughtful face, lighting it up with a wonderful beauty, and smoothing out the lines of care that at other times were only too visible.
Meanwhile Benny was busily engaged counting his money. Fourpence he laid aside for the purpose of purchasing stock for the morrow's sale, a penny he had spent in potatoes, and still he had threepence to the good, besides the sixpence the gentleman gave him, which was clear profit. The sixpence was evidently a great prize to him, for he looked at it long and earnestly.
"Wish I could keep it for mysel'," he muttered; "but it's no go—the guv'nor will 'ave to 'ave it. But the coppers I'll keep 'ginst bad times. Here, Nell," he said, nudging his sister, "you keep these 'ere coppers; and then if the guv'nor axes me if I has any more, I can tell him no."