“Over dere, wit’ me sister.  Kin I bring ’em both?”

Marjorie laughed outright at this, but Mr. Bryant said, gravely: 

“How many in your entire family?  Let me know the worst at once!”

“Dat’s all; me brudder an’ sister.  Kin they come, too?”

“Yes, if they’re fairly clean,” and the boy ran to get them.  He came back bringing a boy but little smaller than himself, and a tiny girl.

Though not immaculate, they were presentable, and soon the six were seated at a round table.

Cousin Jack conformed to his decree that the Maynard children should have but a half-portion each, but he added that this was partly due to his consideration for their health, as well as his willingness that the charity should be partly theirs.  But he told his three guests that they could eat as much as they chose; and noting their generally hungry appearance, he ordered a first course of sandwiches for them, which kindness was greatly appreciated.

“Gee!  Youse is a white man!” exclaimed the oldest visitor, as he scraped his saucer almost through its enamel.

“What does he mean?” asked Midget, laughing.  “Of course, you’re a white man.”

“That’s slang, Marjorie, for a desirable citizen.”

“Funny sort of slang,” Midget commented; “a white man is plain English, isn’t it?”

“I mean, he’s white clear through,” volunteered the boy, whose quick eyes darted from one face to another of his benefactors.

“Yes, I can understand that,” said Midget, slowly; “it just means you’re good all through, Cousin Jack, and I quite agree to that.”

After the small visitors’ hunger was entirely appeased, Cousin Jack presented them each with a flag and a packet of torpedoes, and sent them away rejoicing.

“Poor little scraps of humanity,” he said; “I hope, Mehitabel, you’ll always bring a little sunshine into such lives when opportunity presents itself.”

“I will, Cousin Jack.  Are they very poor?”

“No, not so very.  But they never have any fun, or anything very good to eat.  Of course, you can’t be an organized charity, but once in a while, if you can make a poor child happy by the expenditure of a small sum, do it.”

“We will,” cried King, impressed by Cousin Jack’s earnestness.  “But we don’t have much money to spend, you know.”

“You have an allowance, don’t you?”

“Yes; we each have fifty cents a week, Mops and Kitty and I.”

“Well, Kitty isn’t here, so I can’t ask her; but I’m going to ask you two dear friends of mine, to give away one-tenth of your income to charity.  Now, how much would that be?”

“Five cents a week,” replied Marjorie.

“Well, will you do it?  Every week give a nickel, or a nickel’s worth of peanuts or lemonade or something to some poor little kiddie who doesn’t have much fun in life?  And you needn’t do it every week, if it isn’t convenient, but lay aside the nickel each week, and then give a larger sum, as it accumulates.”