Feed her up good, and tuck her into bed." "Yes, yes; here, my lamb, here's a nice soft-boiled egg for your tea.
You'll like that, now ?" "Thank you," said Marjorie, her great, dark eyes looking weird in the dimly lighted kitchen.
After a satisfying supper, Mrs.Geary took the child up to a low, slant-ceiled room, that was as bare and clean as the kitchen.

The old woman bathed Marjorie's face and hands with unexpected gentleness, and then helped her to undress.

She brought a coarse, plain nightgown of her own, but it was clean and soft, and felt comfortable to the tired child.
Then she was tucked between coarse sheets, on a hard bed, but so weary was she that it seemed comfortable.
Mrs.Geary patted her arm and hummed softly an old hymn-tune, and poor little Marjorie dropped asleep almost at once.
"What do you make of it, Father ?" asked the old woman, returning to the kitchen.
"She run away from her home fer some reason.

Said she hadn't got no home.

Stepmother, I shouldn't wonder.