She still nestled to her mother's side and looked long and earnestly into her face.

She was not thinking, for one of her years knew nothing of thought, but divined that all was not right with her mother.
"Eva, my child," the mother said, speaking to her for the first time, "go to the grocer's, and ask him if he will let me have a loaf of bread on credit." "I am so glad you have sent for bread," exclaimed the infant on her knees, as he clapped his hand joyfully together.
Eva left the room, and in a few minutes returned empty handed.
"Has he refused to let you have it ?" asked Mrs.Wentworth.
"Yes, mother," replied the child sadly.

"He says he will not give credit to anybody." "I thought as much," Mrs.Wentworth remarked.
"Then I won't get any bread ?" asked the child on her knees.
"No, my darling," Mrs.Wentworth answered, "you must wait until to-morrow." "I hav'nt eaten so long, mother," he said.

"Why aint you got any bread ?" "Because mother is poor and without any money," she replied.
"But I feel so hungry," again the child remarked.
"I know it, my sweet boy," replied his mother, "but wait a little longer and I will give you something to eat." Her heart was wrung with agony at the complaint of the child and his call for bread; but she knew not how to evade his questions or to procure food.

The thought of asking charity had never once entered her mind, for those with whom she had daily intercourse, were too much engaged in self-interest to make her hope that any appeal for help would touch their sordid hearts; and yet food must be had, but how she knew not.