While Daisy's eye went from one to the other, it glanced upon the figure of the poor, patient, little waiting girl who stood watching her.

"If you please, Mr.Lamb," she said, "will you hear what this little girl has to say ?--while I look at these." "What do you want, child ?" The answer came very low, but though Daisy did not want to listen she could not help hearing.
"Mother wants a pound of ham, sir." "Have you brought the money for the flour ?" "No, sir--mother'll send it." "We don't cut our hams any more," said the storekeeper.

"Can't sell any less than a whole one--and that's always cash.

There! go child--I can't cut one for you." Daisy looked after the little ragged frock as it went out of the door.
The extreme mystery of some people being rich and some people poor, struck her anew, and perhaps something in her look as it came back to the storekeeper made him say, "They're very poor folks, Miss Randolph--the mother's sickly, and I should only lose my money.

They came and got some flour of me yesterday without paying for it--and it's necessary to put a stop to that kind of thing at once.