'So you are out of luck too,' said Hetty. The miniature artist smiled sadly. 'Yes, I am. Art-or at least my art-isn't selling very well. I have only these potatoes for my dinner. But they are not too bad, hot, with a little butter and salt.' 'Child,' said Hetty, and for a moment, a smile touched her hard, tight face. 'What a good thing we met. I am poor too, and out of luck; but I have got a big piece of beef in my room-but no potatoes. Let's share our food, and make it into a stew. We will cook it in my room. If only we had an onion to put in it!... Say, you have not got a cent or two in an old coat-pocket, have you? We could buy an onion with that.'