The eyes of the mother moistened.
"Mamma," the child repeated, gently shaking his mother's shoulder, "won't you let me help myself?"
"There's nothing for you to eat, sonny, nothing at all."
The blue child-eyes widened; the serious little face puckered.
"Why ain't there anything to eat, mamma?"
"Because there isn't, bubby."
The reasoning was conclusive, and the child accepted it without further parley; but soon another interrogation took form in his active brain.
"It's cold, mamma," he announced. "Aren't you going to build a fire?"
Again the mother coughed, and a flush of red appeared upon her cheeks.
"No," she answered with a sigh.