"I can't help that. Go away."
"I haven't had anything to eat for a whole day--a whole day!" repeated the child.
Her lip quivered. But she spoke distinctly. Her voice sounded through the room. One gentleman after another laid down his paper or his pipe.
Several were watching this little scene.
"Go away!" repeated the young man, irritably. "Don't bother me. I haven't had anything to eat for three days!"
His face went down into his arms again. Mary Elizabeth stood staring at the brown, curling hair. She stood perfectly still for some moments. She evidently was greatly puzzled. She walked away a little distance, then stopped and thought it over.
And now paper after paper and pipe after cigar went down. Every gentleman in the room began to look on. The young man with the beautiful brown curls, and dissipated, disgraced, and hidden face was not stiller than the rest.
The little figure in the pink calico and the red shawl and big rubbers stood for a moment silent among them all. The waiter came to take her out but the gentlemen motioned him away.
Mary Elizabeth turned her five-cent piece over and over in her purple hand. Her hand shook. The tears came. The smell of the dinner from the dining-room grew savoury and strong. The child put the piece of money to her lips as if she could have eaten it, then turned and, without further hesitation, went back.
She touched the young man--on the bright hair this time--with her trembling little hand.
The room was so still now that what she said rang out to the corridor, where the waiters stood, with the clerk behind looking over the desk to see.
"I'm sorry you are so hungry. If you haven't had anything for three days, you must be hungrier than me. I've got five cents. A gentleman gave it me. I wish you would take it. I've only gone one day. You can get some supper with it, and--maybe--I--can get some somewheres! I wish you'd please to take it!"
Mary Elizabeth stood quite still, holding out her five-cent piece. She did not understand the stir that went all over the bright room. She did not see that some of the gentlemen coughed and wiped their spectacles.
She did not know why the brown curls before her came up with such a start, nor why the young man's wasted face flushed red and hot with a noble shame.
She did not in the least understand why he flung the five-cent piece upon the table, and, snatching her in his arms, held her fast and hid his face on her plaid shawl and sobbed. Nor did she seem to know what could be the reason that nobody seemed amused to see this gentleman cry.
The gentleman who had given her the money came up, and some more came up, and they gathered around, and she in the midst of them, and they all spoke kindly, and the young man with the bad face that might have been so beautiful stood up, still clinging to her, and said aloud:
"She's shamed me before you all, and she's shamed me to myself! I'll learn a lesson from this beggar, so help me God!"
So then he took the child upon his knee, and the gentlemen came up to listen, and the young man asked her what her name was.
"Mary Elizabeth, sir."
"Names used to mean things--in the Bible--when I was as little as you. I read the Bible then. Does Mary Elizabeth mean angel of rebuke?"
"Sir?"
"Where do you live, Mary Elizabeth?"
"Nowhere, sir."
"Where do you sleep?"
"In Mrs. O'Flynn's shed, sir. It's too cold for the cows. She's so kind, she lets us stay."
"Whom do you stay with?"
"Nobody, only Jo."
"Is Jo your brother?"
"No, sir. Jo is a girl. I haven't got only Jo."
"What does Jo do for a living?"
"She--gets it, sir."
"And what do you do?"
"I beg. It's better than to--get it, sir, I think."
"Where's your mother?"
"Dead."
"What did she die of?"
"Drink, sir," said Mary Elizabeth, in her distinct and gentle tone.
"Ah--well. And your father?"
"He is dead. He died in prison."
"What sent him to prison?"
"Drink, sir."
"Oh!"
"I had a brother once," continued Mary Elizabeth, who grew quite eloquent with so large an audience, "but he died, too."
"I do want my supper," she added, after a pause, speaking in a whisper, as if to Jo or to herself, "and Jo'll be wondering for me."
"Wait, then," said the young man. "I'll see if I can't beg enough to get you your supper."
"I thought there must be an extry one among so many folks!" cried Mary Elizabeth; for now, she thought, she should get back her five cents.
And, truly, the young man put the five cents into his hat, to begin with. Then he took out his purse, and put in something that made less noise than the five-cent piece and something more and more and more.
Then he passed around the great room, walking still unsteadily, and the gentleman who gave the five cents and all the gentlemen put something into the young man's hat.
So, when he came back to the table, he emptied the hat and counted the money, and, truly, it was forty dollars.
"Forty dollars!"