I'll see to the boy," commanded Mrs.
Moss, waving off the children, and going up to feel the pulse of her new charge, for it suddenly occurred to her that he might be sick and not safe to take home.
The hand he gave her was very thin, but clean and cool, and the black eyes were clear though hollow, for the poor lad was half-starved.
"I'm awful shabby, but I ain't dirty.

I had a washin' in the rain last night, and I've jest about lived on water lately," he explained, wondering why she looked at him so hard.
"Put out your tongue." He did so, but took it in again to say quickly,-- "I ain't sick,--I'm only hungry; for I haven't had a mite but what Sanch brought, for three days; and I always go halves, don't I, Sanch ?" The poodle gave a shrill bark, and vibrated excitedly between the door and his master as if he understood all that was going on, and recommended a speedy march toward the promised food and shelter.

Mrs.
Moss took the hint, and bade the boy follow her at once and bring his "things" with him.
"I ain't got any.

Some big fellers took away my bundle, else I wouldn't look so bad.

There's only this.