Now, mind, he's to have good milk every day, or I'll change his boarding-house.

D'ye hear!" And laughing at this sally, the woman turned away to spend in a night's debauch the money she had gained in half a day's begging.
Left to herself, Mother Hewitt went staggering back with the baby in her arms, and seated herself on the ground beside the cup of bread and water, which was mixed to the consistence of cream.

As she did so the light of her poor candle fell on the baby's face.

It was pinched and hungry and ashen pale, the thin lips wrought by want and suffering into such sad expressions of pain that none but the most stupid and hardened could look at them and keep back a gush of tears.
But Mother Hewitt saw nothing of this--felt nothing of this.

Pity and tenderness had long since died out of her heart.