Her part of the bargain Jessica faithfully kept; and though the solemn and silent man under the dark shadow of the bridge looked for her every morning as he served his customers, he caught no glimpse of her wan face and thin little frame. But when the appointed time was finished she presented herself at the stall, with her hungry eyes fastened again upon the piles of buns and bread and butter, which were fast disappearing before the demands of the buyers. The business was at its height, and the famished child stood quietly on one side watching for the throng to melt away. But as soon as the nearest church clock had chimed eight she drew a little nearer to the stall, and at a signal from its owner she slipped between the trestles of his stand and took up her former position on the empty basket. To his eyes she seemed even a little thinner, and certainly more ragged, than before; and he laid a whole bun, a stale one which was left from yesterday’s stock, upon her lap, as she lifted the cup of coffee to her lips with both her benumbed hands.

“What’s your name?” she asked, looking up to him with her keen eyes.

“Why,” he answered, hesitatingly, as if he was reluctant to tell so much of himself, “my christened name is Daniel.” “And where do you live, Mr. Dan’el?” she inquired.

“Oh, come now!” he exclaimed, “if you’re going to be impudent, you’d better march off. What business is it of yours where I live? I don’t want to know where you live, I can tell you.”

“I didn’t mean no offence,” said Jess humbly; “only I thought I’d like to know where a good man like you lived. You’re a very good man, aren’t you, Mr. Dan’el?”

“I don’t know,” he answered uneasily; “I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are, you know,” continued Jess. “You make good coffee; prime! And buns too! And I’ve been watching you hundreds of times afore you saw me, and the police leaves you alone, and never tells you to move on. Oh, yes! you must be a very good man.”

Daniel sighed, and fidgeted about his crockery with a grave and occupied air, as if he were pondering over the child’s notion of goodness. He made good coffee, and the police left him alone! It was quite true; yet still as he counted up the store of pence which had accumulated in his strong canvas bag, he sighed again still more heavily. He purposely let one of his pennies fall upon the muddy pavement, and went on counting the rest busily, while he furtively watched the little girl sitting at his feet. Without a shade of change upon her small face she covered the penny with her foot and drew it in carefully towards her, while she continued to chatter fluently to him. For a moment a feeling of pain shot a pang through Daniel’s heart; and then he congratulated himself on having entrapped the young thief. It was time to be leaving now; but before he went he would make her move her bare foot and disclose the penny concealed beneath it, and then he would warn her never to venture near his stall again. This was her gratitude, he thought; he had given her two breakfasts and more kindness than he had shown to any fellow-creature for many a long year, and at the first chance the young jade turned upon him and robbed him! He was brooding over it painfully in his mind when Jessica’s uplifted face changed suddenly, a dark flush crept over her pale cheeks, and the tears started to her eyes. She stooped down, and picking up the coin from among the mud she rubbed it bright and clean upon her rags and laid it upon the stall close to his hand, but without speaking a word. Daniel looked down upon her solemnly and searchingly.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Please, Mr. Dan’el,” she answered, “it dropped, and you didn’t hear it.”

“Jess,” he said sternly, “tell me all about it.”

“Oh, please,” she sobbed, “I never had a penny of my own but once; and it rolled close to my foot; and you didn’t see it; and I hid it up sharp; and then I thought how kind you’d been, and how good the coffee and buns are, and how you let me warm myself at your fire; and, please, I couldn’t keep the penny any longer. You’ll never let me come again, I guess.”

Daniel turned away for a moment, busying himself with putting his cups and saucers into the basket, while Jessica stood by trembling, with the large tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. The snug, dark corner, with its warm fire of charcoal and its fragrant smell of coffee, had been a paradise to her for these two brief spans of time; but she had been guilty of the sin which would drive her from it. All beyond the railway-arch the streets stretched away, cold and dreary, with no friendly face to meet hers and no warm cups of coffee to refresh her; yet she was only lingering sorrowfully to hear the words spoken which should forbid her to return to this pleasant spot. Mr. Daniel turned round at last, and met her tearful gaze, with a look of strange emotion upon his own solemn face.

“Jess,” he said, “I could never have done it myself. But you may come here every Wednesday morning, as this is a Wednesday, and there’ll always be a cup of coffee for you.”

She thought he meant that he could not have hidden the penny under his foot, and she went away a little saddened and subdued, notwithstanding her great delight in the expectation of such a treat every week; while Daniel, pondering over the struggle that must have passed through her childish mind, went on his way, from time to time shaking his head, muttering to himself, “I couldn’t have done it myself: I never could have done it myself.”