Part 16 (2/2)
And Jesus saith unto him, I will come and heal him.”
Her mother ceased reading, and leant her head on her hand, while Kittie, strange thoughts running in her mind, began to wish she could go to this Lord to obtain help as these people had. She must get that book and see what more it said. At any rate of this she was certain, that the Lord Jesus answered to both those applicants, ”_I will_.” He did not say ”no”
to either, and if she could only find out how to speak to Him, she too might get what she needed. With this comforting thought, and with the light of a new hope dawning in her heart, little Kittie fell asleep.
She did not yet know that He was close to her all the time, and that His ear was ever ready to hear if she spoke to Him.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER XI.
A MIDNIGHT BARGAIN.
”Look 'ere,” said a low voice, ”be a good boy, and don't cry, and then I'll see if I can't get yer somethin' or other to eat.”
”But I'm 'ungry, Cherry,” whispered the little one in answer, frightened by former experiences into keeping his woe within bounds, ”and it's all cold and dark 'ere. I wish you'd take me to mother.”
A sharp pang shot across Cherry's heart, and she answered in a voice that held a sob only just restrained from breaking forth, ”I can't, d.i.c.kie, you know as I can't. I would in a minute if I could; mother's gone a long way off.”
”In a train?” whispered d.i.c.kie.
Cherry nodded. What did it matter, so that d.i.c.kie was pacified? she thought.
”She promised as she'd take me,” he said again, ”and she never has. She never went a long way from d.i.c.kie 'afore.”
”No,” whispered Cherry again, ”no more she did from Cherry; but she couldn't help herself--mother couldn't. She was took.”
d.i.c.kie turned round wearily, and his little sister smoothed his hair and cheek, till by-and-by his gentle breathing told her that he was at last asleep.
Then she raised herself a little and looked round stealthily.
The room in which she lay was a good-sized one, and in each of the four corners, heaped together for warmth, the different members of four different families were huddled. Tattered rugs, shawls, and rags covered them from the biting February cold, and a flickering nightlight on a box in the middle of the room was the only gleam that revealed the shadowy misery congregated there.
Though the poor little brother was asleep, and Cherry herself sorely needed repose, she still kept her wearied eyes open, watching the door fearfully. At last, overcome by fatigue, she forgot everything, till a slight moan from d.i.c.kie brought her back to the present, and she heard a voice close at her elbow say thickly--
”Well, yer can 'ave him: the worst on't is the gal; she'll take on if I say yes, awful.”
The words were spoken in a rough sort of undertone by a man who seemed by the sound of his voice to have been drinking heavily.
The answer, from a woman who was already settling herself to sleep in her corner near, came in a hard distinct whisper--
”Never mind _her_! She'll fret a bit, but that'll be the end on it. She can't do nothing. Anybody 'ud know as 'tis better for 'im to be fed and clothed than left 'ere to starve.”
The man addressed was sensible of a sort of flash of memory, and a picture came up before his eyes.
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