You'll be sorry by and by." But there was a stubborn look in Dotty's eyes, and she marched off to her money-box as fast as she could go.

When she returned with the pieces of scrip, which amounted in all to fifteen cents, the children were grouped about the beggar, who sat upon the door-step, the plate of sandwiches before him.
"Here's some money, sir, for your sick children," cried Dotty, with an air of importance.
"Blessings on your pretty face," replied the man, eagerly.
Dotty cast a triumphant glance at Jennie.
"Ahem! This is better than nothing," added the beggar, in a different tone, after he had counted the money.

"And now haven't any of the rest of you little maidens something to give a poor old wayfarer that's been in the wars and stove himself up for his country ?" There was no reply from any one of the little girls, even tender Prudy.
And as Dotty saw her precious scrip swallowed up in that dreadfully dingy wallet, it suddenly occurred to her that she had not done such a very wise thing, after all.
"Why don't you eat your luncheon, sir ?" said Jennie Vance; for the man, after taking up the slices of bread and looking at them had put them down again with an air of disdain.
"I thought, by the looks of the house, that Christians lived here," said he, shaking his head slowly.

"Haven't you a piece of apple pie, or a cup custard, to give a poor man that's been in prison for you in the south country?
Not so much as a cup of coffee or a slice of beefsteak?
No.

I see how it is," he added, wiping his face and rising with an effort; "you are selfish, good-for-nothing creeters, the whole of you.