know well enough what hunger is. What have you here?" he added,
indicating the paper bag which Erica held.

"Scones," she said, unwillingly.

"That will do," he said, taking them from her and giving them to
the child. "He is too young to be anything but the victim of
another's laziness. There! Sit down and eat them while you can."

The child sat down on the doorstep with the bag of scones clasped
in both hands, but he continued to gaze after his benefactor till
he had passed out of sight, and there was a strange look of
surprise and gratification in his eyes. That was a man who knew!
Many people had, after hard begging, thrown him pence, many had
warned him off harshly, but this man had looked straight into his
eyes, and had at once stopped and questioned him, had singled out
the one true statement from a mass of lies, and had given him--
not a stale loaf with the top cut off, a suspicious sort of charity
which always angered the waif--but his own food, bought for his
own consumption. Most wonderful of all, too, this man knew what it
was to be hungry, and had even the insight and shrewdness to be
aware that the waif's best chance of eating the scones at all was
to eat them then and there. For the first time a feeling of
reverence and admiration was kindled in the child's heart; he would
have done a great deal for his unknown friend.

Raeburn and Erica had meanwhile walked on in the direction of
Guilford Square.

"I had bought them for you," said Erica, reproachfully.