'Is the poor thing ill ?' says I.'Starving,' says she, in such a desperate, fierce way, that it gave me a turn.

'Is that your child ?' says I, a bit frightened about how she'd answer me.

'Yes,' she says in quite a new voice, very soft and sorrowful, and bending her face away from me over the child.
'Then why don't you suckle it ?' says I.She looks up at me, and then at Jenny and shakes her head, and says nothing.

I give my baby to Jemmy to hold, and went and sat down by her.

He walked away a little; and I whispered to her again, 'Why don't you suckle it ?' and she whispered to me, 'My milk's all dried up.