"Wasn't there anything in that wallet when you gave it to that man, Miss?"
"No," she replied, truthfully enough.
"No. He didn't say there was," muttered the boy, and said not another word.
Ruth watched him eat. He did not raise his light eyes to her. The color faded out of his cheeks. She knew that it was actual starvation that kept him eating; but he was greatly troubled in his mind. She went back to her own supper, and remained very quiet all through the evening.
Later Aunt Alvirah made up the couch with plenty of blankets and thick, downy "comforters," and when Ruth had gone to bed the boy came out into the kitchen and left Uncle Jabez free to seek his own repose. But though the whole house slept, Ruth could not at first. Long after it was still, and she knew Aunt Alvirah was asleep and Uncle Jabez was snoring, Ruth arose, slipped on a warm wrapper and her slippers, and squeezing something tightly between her fingers, crept down the stairs to the kitchen door. She unlatched it softly and let it swing open a couple of inches.
There was a stir within. She waited, holding her breath. She heard the couch creak. Then came the sound of a shuffling step.
The moonlight lay in a broad band under the front window. Into this radiance moved the fig-
