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The Indian gentleman smiled involuntarily at this, and Sara smiled
a little, too, remembering what she had said to herself when she
put the buns down on the ravenous child's ragged lap.
"She looked so hungry," she said. "She was even hungrier than I was."
"She was starving," said the woman. "Many's the time she's told me
of it since--how she sat there in the wet, and felt as if a wolf
was a-tearing at her poor young insides."
"Oh, have you seen her since then?" exclaimed Sara. "Do you know
where she is?"
"Yes, I do," answered the woman, smiling more good-naturedly
than ever. "Why, she's in that there back room, miss, an'
has been for a month; an' a decent, well-meanin' girl she's goin'
to turn out, an' such a help to me in the shop an' in the kitchen
as you'd scarce believe, knowin' how she's lived."
She stepped to the door of the little back parlor and spoke; and the
next minute a girl came out and followed her behind the counter.
And actually it was the beggar-child, clean and neatly clothed,
and looking as if she had not been hungry for a long time.
She looked shy, but she had a nice face, now that she was no longer
a savage, and the wild look had gone from her eyes. She knew Sara
in an instant, and stood and looked at her as if she could never
look enough.
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