The cook always saved the scraps for Sheba's hungry little charges.

This evening John Jay kept his eyes fixed on it expectantly, as he followed it up the walk.

He had thrown one foot up behind him, and rested the toes of it in his clasped hands as he hopped along on the other.

Maybe there might be a birthday cake in that basket, with little candles on it.

He didn't know, of course,--but--_maybe_.
They all crowded around, as Sheba put the basket on the table and took out some scraps of boiled ham, a handful of cookies, and half of an apple pie.