A little girl in a wretched attic, whose sick mother had no bread, knelt down by the bedside, and said slowly: "Give us this day our daily bread." Then she went into the street and began to wonder where God kept his bread. She turned around the corner and saw a large, well-filled baker's shop.
"This," thought Nettie, "is the place." So she entered confidently, and said to the big baker, "I've come for it."
"Come for what?"
"My daily bread," she said, pointing to the tempting loaves. "I'll take two, if you please--one for mother and one for me."
"All right," said the baker, putting them into a bag, and giving them to his little customer, who started at once into the street.
"Stop, you little rogue!" he said, roughly; "where is your money?"
"I haven't any," she said simply.
"Haven't any!" he repeated, angrily; "you little thief, what brought you here, then?"
The hard words frightened the little girl, who, bursting into tears, said: "Mother is sick, and I am so hungry. In my prayers I said, 'Give us this day our daily bread,' and then I thought God meant me to fetch it, and so I came."
The rough, but kind-hearted baker was softened by the child's simple tale, and instead of chiding her or visiting threats of punishment, as is usually the case, he said: "You poor, dear girl; here, take this to your mother," and he filled a large basketful and gave it to her.