"What can you pay, I should like to know?" she said, glancing at his patched coat and trousers and his torn hat.
"I sell papers," said he; "and I can pay you a little on it every week."
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Sam Wadley," answered the boy.
"Have you a father?"
"No, ma'am," replied Sam; "he's dead."
"Have you a mother?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What does she do?" continued Aunt Deborah.