“I gets ’em.”

“You didn’t get any to-day?” said Winthrop.

She shook her head.

“You mustn’t any more.”

“Nobody ha’n’t no business to let me starve,” said the blackey stoutly.

“No, but I’ll tell you where to go the next time you can’t get a dinner, and you shall have it without stealing.”

“I ha’n’t stole it —­ nobody never see me steal —­ I only tuk it,” —­ said the girl with a little lowering of her voice and air.

“What’s your name?”

“Clam.”

“Clam!” said Elizabeth, —­ “where did you get such an odd name?”

“’Long street,” said the girl, her black eyes twinkling.

“Where did you get it?” said Winthrop gravely.

“I didn’t get it nowheres —­ it was guv to me.”

“What’s your other name?”

“I ha’n’t got no more names —­ my name’s Clam.”

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“She’s Sukey Beckinson.”

“Is she kind to you?” asked Elizabeth.

“I don’ know!”

“Did you have dinner enough?” said Winthrop with a smile.

Clam jumped up, and crossing her hands on her breast dropped a brisk little courtsey to her benefactor.  She made no other answer, and then sat down again.

“Are you afraid to go home with your empty basket when the storm’s over?” said he kindly.

“No,” she said; but it was with a singular expression of cold and careless necessity.

“The rest of the basketful wouldn’t be worth more than that, would it?” said he giving her a sixpence.

Clam took it and clasped it very tight in her fist, for other place of security she had none; and looked at him, but made no more answer than that.

“You won’t forget where to come the next time you can’t get an honest dinner,” said he.  “The corner of Beaver and Little South Streets.  You know where it is?  That is where I live.  Ask for Mr. Landholm.”

Clam nodded and said, “I know!”

“I hope you’ll get some supper to-night,” said he.

“I will!” said Clam determinately.

“How will you?” said Elizabeth.

“I’ll make mammy give me some,” said the girl flourishing her clasped fist.

“Wouldn’t you like to leave picking things out of the street, and go to live with somebody who would take care of you and teach you to be a good girl?” said Elizabeth.

Clam tossed her sixpence up and down in her hand, and finally brought her eyes to bear upon Elizabeth and said,

“I don’t want nobody to take care of me.”

“If she could be taught, and would, I’d take care of her afterwards,” said Elizabeth to Winthrop.

“If he’d say so, I would,” said Clam.

“Look here,” said Winthrop.  “Would you like to come into some kind house —­ if I can find you one —­ and learn to do clean work?”

“It don’t make no odds,” said Clam looking at her basket.