164 Tom Seven Years Old.

babyish. Why don’t you go home and get
your dinner ?”

“There ain’t none,” said she “ Father’s
ill, and mother’s got no money, and I’m so
hungry !”

She began to cry again.

“No dinner ?” said Tom, puzzled. “ Why,
everybody has his dinner. It’s ready every
day at one o’clock.”

“Father's ill,” repeated she; “he can't
work. Mother's no money to buy anything!”

“Come home with me,” said Tom, “and
I'll give you some of my dinner. It’s sure to
be,ready. The cook is cooking it now in the
kitchen.”

The little girl got up and ran along beside
Tom. She did not seem to mind the dust
on her bare feet, or the hot sunshine on her
bare head. Tom looked at his nice strong
boots.

“Tlave you no money to buy shoes or
stockings, or a hat ?” he asked, surprised.

“T don’t care about them,” she answered ,
“T want my dinner.”