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 pitch hay down to the horses below, she burrowed deeply into the stack and quite unsuspecting, the man whistled and sang at his tasks, all unconscious of his trembling, terrified little listener.

But at the end of her forty-eight hours Charity was driven forth by her dreadful hunger, though she had stolen down to drink out of the horses' watering pails quite a number of times in the dark. She felt faint and dizzy as she faltered down the ladder and through the open stable door. Then she gave a little shriek, for she walked straight into the arms of the hostler.

Fright and hunger made her reel, and for a little while she lay against him motionless, like a poor, stormdriven little bird. Perhaps her helplessness touched his heart, for the hostler carried her into the kitchen of the mansion and, after one look at her white, drawn face, bade the Negro cook fetch some food.

"Here's a lass, an I don't miss my guess, who be starvin'," he said shortly, though not ill-naturedly. "Where she comes from and where she be a-goin' to I know not; but I do know hunger when I see it!"

The cook, a fat, comfortable old negress, came over and looked down at Charity as she lay drooping upon a chair.

"Laws, yas'r, she sho' does want food!"

So, forthwith, food was set before the famished girl. But the cook was wise and allowed her only a small quantity and that mostly liquid.

"I'll gib yo some t' tote wif yo, honey," said the negress, cutting some slabs of beef and slapping them