Up the Hill and Over | Page 4

the door of a white building; neither
stoop nor building had he ever seen before. Again the dog barked,
loudly, and as if in answer to the bark, the door above the stoop opened
and a young girl came out. She cast a casual glance at him as he lay
under the tree, and, settling herself daintily upon the white steps,
opened a small basket and took from it a serviceable square of white
damask and a lettuce sandwich. He could see the lettuce, crisp and
green, peeping out at the edges.
At the sight, he was conscious of a strange sensation; an almost
forgotten feeling to which, for the moment, he could put no name.
And then, as the girl bit into the sandwich, illumination came. He was
hungry! But what an unkind, inconsiderate girl!--Another bite and the
sandwich would be gone--
"I am awake," he suggested meekly.
"So Buster said." The girl smiled approvingly at the dog. "Good Buster!
You may come off guard, sir. Run away and get your lunch."
With a delighted bark for thanks the bull pup trotted away. Callandar's
sense of injury deepened. The girl had begun upon a second sandwich.
Perhaps there were only two!
"Are you hungry, Mr. Tramp?" asked the girl innocently.
"I think," he said, pausing in order to give his words full weight, "I am
starving!" Then, as the blissful meaning of this first feeling of healthy

hunger dawned upon him, he added solemnly: "Thank the Lord!"
"Yes?" There was a cool edge of surprise in the girl's voice. She
proceeded thoughtfully with the second sandwich.
"Yes. Hunger is a beautiful thing, a priceless possession. Money cannot
buy it, skill cannot command it. The price of hunger is far above
rubies."
The girl looked down upon him and smiled. It was such a dear little
smile that for a moment its recipient forgot about the disappearing
sandwich.
"I am so glad," she said warmly, "that you feel like that!"
There was a slight pause. "Because," she went on, finishing the last bite
of the second sandwich, "until now I had always thought that hunger
wasn't a bit nice. Unless, of course, one has the power to gratify it."
"Fortunately," said Callandar a little stiffly, "I have that power."
The girl raised her eyebrows. They were long and straight and black,
and she raised them charmingly. But she was a most unkind and
heartless girl, for all that. Never while he lived would he ask her for a
sandwich. With a comfortable feeling of security his hand felt for his
well-filled pocketbook. It was gone!
"By Jove!"
Stronger ejaculation seemed forbidden by the Presence on the steps. He
tapped all his pockets carefully. The pocketbook was in none of
them--and he had used the last cent of loose change for a glass of milk
for breakfast.
"I suppose," the girl had apparently not noticed his sudden discomfiture,
"that you mean you have money? But the nearest place where money
would be of use is Coombe, and Coombe is a full mile away. It is a pity
that my principles, and the principles of the school-board, should be all

against the feeding of tramps. Otherwise I might offer you a sandwich."
"You might," bitterly, "but I doubt it!"
"Even now, putting the school-board aside, I might offer you one if you
were to ask prettily and to apologise to me for making rather a fool of
me this morning over there by the pump!"
The pump! Why, of course, the pump! It all came back to him now--the
pump, the avenging angel! (Had this been the avenging angel?) The
avenging dog!--Oh, heaven, was that the avenging dog?
He burst into a boyish shout of laughter.
"There are only two sandwiches left," she warned him. The doctor
stopped laughing.
"Oh, please!" he said.
There was something very pleasant about him when he used that tone; a
persuasive charm, a trace of command. The girl liked it--and passed a
sandwich.
"Anyway it was you who took for granted that I was a tramp," he
smiled at her. "If I remember rightly I was hardly in a condition to
contradict you. Not but that it was a natural conclusion. I am curious to
know why you changed your mind."
"Oh! as soon as you fainted I knew. Tramps don't faint!"
"Not ever?"
"Well--hardly ever! And besides--look at your hands!"
The doctor looked, and blushed.
"Dirty?" he ventured.
"Not half dirty enough! And it wasn't only your hands. I noticed--oh!

lots of things!" For no perceptible reason a tiny blush fluttered across
the whiteness of her face like a roseleaf chased by the wind. The
pleasure of watching it made the doctor forget to answer, and the girl
went on:
"I know lots more about you than that