Her eyes were full of tears.

What fountain had been opened, I cannot tell; perhaps only that of sympathy with the hungry youth.
"Tak th' loaf," she said again, but in a very different voice this time, and held it out to him.

"Dunnot be vexed with a poor woman.
Sometimes hoo dunnot knaw wheer to get the bread for her own." "That's why I wouldn't take it," rejoined Cosmo.

"If I had thought you were well off, I would not have hesitated." "Oh! aw'm noan so pinched at present," she answered with a smile.
"Tak th' loaf, an' welcome, an' pey mo when yo' can." Cosmo put down her name and address in his pocket-book, and as he took the loaf, kissed the toil-worn hand that gave it him.

She uttered a little cry of remonstrance, threw her apron over her head, and went back to the house, sobbing.
The tide rose in Cosmo's heart too, but he left the hamlet eating almost ravenously.