Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking

“‘Come!—come in—come in to the fire; it’s chilly out of doors. You’re in good time, aren’t you?’

“‘Yes,—but I can’t stay,’ said the boy, coming in however, and coming slowly up to the fire. But he came close, and his two hands spread themselves to the blaze as if they liked it, and the poor little bare feet shone in the firelight on the hearth. It was early, very cool and damp abroad.

“‘I’ll get you the milk,’ said Silky, taking the jug;—‘you stand and warm yourself. You’ve plenty of time.’

“She came back with the jug in one hand and a piece of cold bacon in the other, which she offered to Norman. He looked at it, and then grabbed it, and began to eat immediately. Silky stood opposite to him with the jug.

“‘What’s this milk for, Norman?’ she said, pleasantly.

“He stopped eating and looked troubled directly.

“‘What are you going to do with it?’

“‘Carry it—home,’ he said, slowly.

“‘Now?—home now? Are you going back with it now?’

“‘I am going to take it to the factory.’

“‘What do you do with it there?’

“‘Nothing,’ said Norman, looking at his piece of bacon, and seeming almost ready to cry;—‘I don’t do nothing with it.’

“‘You needn’t be afraid to tell me, dear,’ Silky said, gently. ‘I’m not going to do you any harm. Does your mother know you get it?’

“He waited a good while, and then when she repeated the question, taking another look at Silky’s kind quiet face, he said half under his breath,—

“‘No—’

“‘What do you want it for, then, dear? I’d rather give it to you than have you take it in a wrong way.—Do you want it to drink?’

“Norman dropped his piece of bacon.

“‘No,’ he said, beginning to cry,—‘I don’t want it—I don’t want it at all!’—

“Silky picked up the bacon, and she looked troubled in her turn.

“‘Don’t cry, Norman,—don’t be afraid of me.—Who does want it?’

“‘Oh, don’t tell!—’ sobbed the child;—‘My little dog!—’

“‘Now don’t cry!’ said Silky.—‘Your little dog?’

“‘Yes!—my little dog,’—And he sighed deeply between the words.

“‘Where is your little dog?’

“‘He’s up yonder—up to the factory.’

“‘Who gave him to you?’

“‘Nobody didn’t give him to me. I found him.’

“‘And this milk is for him?’

“‘He wants it to drink.’

“‘Does your mother know you get it?’

“Norman didn’t answer.

“‘She don’t?’ said Silky. ‘Then where does the money come from, Norman?’ She spoke very gently.

“‘It’s mine,’ said Norman.

“‘Yes, but where do you get it?’

“‘Mr. Swift gives it to me.’

“‘Is it out of your wages?’

“Norman hesitated, and then said ‘Yes,’ and began to cry again.

“‘What’s the matter?’ said Silky. ‘Sit down and eat your bacon. I’m not going to get you into trouble.’

“He looked at her again and took the bacon, but said he wanted to go.

“‘What for?—it isn’t time yet.’

“‘Yes—I want to see my little dog.’

“‘And feed him? Stop and tell me about him. What colour is he?’

“‘He’s white all over.’

“‘What’s his name?’

“‘Little Curly Long-Ears.’

“‘What do you call him?—all that?’

“‘I call him Long-Ears.’

“‘But why don’t you feed him at home, Norman?’

“‘He lives up there.’

“‘And don’t he go home with you?’