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Updated: May 8, 2025
Sara gave her a little nod, and the child, after another stare, a curious, longing stare, jerked her shaggy head in response, and until Sara was out of sight she did not take another bite or even finish the one she had begun. At that moment the baker-woman glanced out of her shop-window. "Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "If that young'un hasn't given her buns to a beggar-child!
Go to the poor frost-bitten wayside beggar-child, my little readers; bring him into your comfortable drawing-room, which you sit in every day and think nothing about, and he will fancy he has got into Paradise. It is a luxurious palace to him. Take him to your snug bed and let him sleep there, and it will be to him what a state apartment in Windsor Castle would be to you.
Deane appeared in the doorway, "Come to me Ruth, you have lost your mother, but you have found a sister," and she clasped the sobbing little one to her arms. "Well, if that don't beat all," said Mrs. Wynn. "Whoever heard of such goin's on? What is the girl goin' to do with that beggar-child, I'd like to know? A lone female, too, with no one to protect her, and nothing but one pair of hands.
He did heed an odd beggar-child who stopped, to hold towards him a Christmas number of the "Free Press," for a penny, or who still more appealingly extended a little bare frozen hand for charity.
"Yes, it is Zita," he said slowly; "with her officer friends. She tried to come in here the other night, before Riccardo came. I should have gone mad if she had touched me!" "But she does not know," Gemma protested softly. "She cannot guess that she is hurting you." "She is like a Creole," he answered, shuddering. "Do you remember her face that night when we brought in the beggar-child?
It is hurt and starving; and I want to get it home as quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be got anywhere, so I want to have your carriage." "Felice! you are not going to take a horrid beggar-child into your rooms! Send for a policeman, and let him carry it to the Refuge or whatever is the proper place for it. You can't have all the paupers in the town "
It wasn't because she didn't want them, either well, well, she looked hungry enough. I'd give something to know what she did it for." She stood behind her window for a few moments and pondered. Then her curiosity got the better of her. She went to the door and spoke to the beggar-child. "Who gave you those buns?" she asked her. The child nodded her head toward Sara's vanishing figure.
It can't be Tom, because I know he's spent all his money, and auntie would never call herself an admirer of 'Hiawatha, nor Herr Haeberlein, nor Monsieur Noirol, nor any one I can think of." "Dealings with the fairies," said Raeburn, smiling. "Your beggar-child with the scones suddenly transformed into a beneficent rewarder." "Not from you, father?" Raeburn laughed.
And all the time I never took my eyes from the boat; but feasted on it as a beggar-child feasts in imagination on the gauds of a groaning table.
If it had been sixpence! I could have eaten six. It won't be enough for either of us but it will be better than nothing." "Wait a minute," she said to the beggar-child. She went into the shop. It was warm and smelled delightfully. The woman was just going to put more hot buns in the window. "If you please," said Sara, "have you lost fourpence a silver fourpence?"
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