sense of justice. They were in the midst of their breakfast when they were rather startled by hearing her voice from the end of the counter, where she had been standing leaning against the wall, her arms folded.
"You like a cup coffee?" she asked.
They both looked round, uncertain what to say, not knowing whether or not she meant that she sold coffee. They exchanged rather disturbed glances, and then Robin answered.
"We can't afford it, thank you, ma'am," he said. "We've got so little money."
"Never mind," she astonished them by answering. "That cost me nothing. There some coffee left on the back of the stove from my man's breakfast. I give you each a cup." And she actually went into the little back room and presently brought back two good cups of hot coffee.
"There, you drink that," she said, setting them down on the little table. "If you children goin' to der Fair in that crowd by yourselves, you want something in your stomachs."
It was so good—it was so unexpected—it seemed such luck! They looked at each other with beaming eyes, and at her with quite disproportionate gratitude. It was much more than two cups of coffee to them.
