And again, she would send one of her toddlers in to him with a great pitcher of hot soup, debating inwardly the while whether she was justified in taking it from the mouths of her own flesh and blood.

Nor was Martin ungrateful, knowing as he did the lives of the poor, and that if ever in the world there was charity, this was it.
On a day when she had filled her brood with what was left in the house, Maria invested her last fifteen cents in a gallon of cheap wine.

Martin, coming into her kitchen to fetch water, was invited to sit down and drink.

He drank her very-good health, and in return she drank his.

Then she drank to prosperity in his undertakings, and he drank to the hope that James Grant would show up and pay her for his washing.