"Look, Catherine," cried her brother, who was eating roasted beans; "there is a little dead snail in this bean, a roasted snail."
"Will you give me some beans?" begged the strange child.
"Yes, here are some. Are you very, very fond of roasted beans?"
"Yes, very; but I asked you for them because I am very hungry."
"Why, have you had no dinner?"
"No."
"Nor any breakfast, either?"
"No."
"Mother, mother," cried both the children together, running to their mother; "this poor little boy hasn't had any dinner or any breakfast, and he is very hungry; give us some bread for him."
"He has had no dinner, you say?" said the good woman, giving the child a piece of bread with that compassionate tenderness which seems innate in women toward children; "have you no parents, then, my child?"