conscious of no impropriety. "I wanted that boy to have it—and go." It was not necessary to say where.
"So did I," answered Meg. "And I believe his mother would have given it to him too."
They heard the man leave the house a few minutes later, and then it did not take them long to dress and go down the narrow, broken, balustraded stairs again. As they descended the first flight, they saw the woman cooking something over the stove in her kitchen, and as she moved about they saw her brush her apron across her eyes.
The squalid street was golden with the early morning sunshine, which is such a joyful thing; and in the full happy flood of it a miserable little figure sat crouched on the steps. It was the boy Ben, and they saw that he looked paler than he had looked the night before, and his little face looked older. His elbow was on his knee and his cheek in his hand, and there were wet marks on his cheeks.
A large lump rose up in Meg's throat.
"I know what's the matter," she whispered to Robin.
"So—so do I," Rob answered rather unsteadily. "And he's poorer than anybody else. It ought not to go by him.'
"No, no!" said Meg, "it oughtn't!"
