"You remind me much of your father, lassie. You're a brave little woman. God forgive me for despairing!" Then they went to bed as the easiest way to keep warm.
The Sunday was late in dawning. Daylight came slowly, and the weather was cold and windy and cheerless. The old woman wondered to hear her child singing hymns in a high clear voice that had no rhythm of hunger. But Peggy, like the boy who "whistled for want of thought," was singing to keep up her courage. She was hungry, and wished it was afternoon, that they might have their nice loaf of white bread from the church. Then she began to wonder what she should do when the loaf was gone. How would the old cat taste if they killed her for broth? "Oh, what an awful thought!" and then she hugged and kissed her old pussy, and whispered in her ear that she was sorry she had no breakfast for her, and she must hunt for a mouse.
But the day wore on. They went to church, and, after the second service they staid with the other old people to whom the bread was due, and received, besides, several yards of good warm flannel.
Peggy was now in haste to be home. She did not envy the nicely dressed little children in the church-yard, for she was proud to have her dear old Granny lean upon her, and tell her all about the Bruces, from whom the dole of bread had come, and how their family motto was "Think and Thank." Granny said it meant consideration for the poor, and gratitude for everything. But as they neared their cottage, Granny stopped and listened.
"What is it, Granny?"
"I hear a strange step, child."
As she spoke, a man with a big bunch of bananas over his shoulder, and a silk handkerchief in which were golden oranges, stopped at their very door-step.
"Oh, dear Granny, it is a strange man," said Peggy, giving her loaf a little tighter hug.
"We must ask him in to supper, Peggy," said Granny, firmly.
"But, Granny, we've so little," said the child, "I am ashamed."