Part 2 (1/2)

”No, Jimmy,” she replied, as she came back to him; ”G.o.d made them.”

”G.o.d!” he repeated, ”Who's He; Him's mighty clever to fix up these little bits of things, bain't He?”

The little girl was for a moment shocked, then she felt a tender pity for the poor boy.

”O Jimmy, don't you know who G.o.d is?” she gently asked.

He shook his head; so she went on--

”G.o.d is our Father in heaven,” and she pointed upwards. ”He made these sweet flowers, and us also, and He sent His dear Son to die for us, so that all our sins should be taken away. And when Jesus (that is the name of G.o.d's dear Son) was here on earth, He gave sight to the blind, healed the sick, and was for ever doing good; but now He is in heaven, and still He loves us, oh, so dearly, and wishes us all to come to Him.”

”Does He want me?” asked the outcast doubtfully; ”He don't know me.”

”Oh yes, He knows you, Jimmy, and loves you too; once Jesus blessed little children like you and me, and said, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.'”

”The kingdom of heaven!” repeated poor benighted Jimmy musingly--it was the first time he had ever heard those blessed words--”where be that, Polly?”

”It is where G.o.d lives, and where we shall go when we die if we believe in the Saviour and love and pray to G.o.d.”

”How do you pray?” he asked, fixing his keen eyes upon her, as though hungering for the bread of life.

But before she could reply, a loud, harsh voice was heard uttering frightful oaths, and a lumbering tread came stumbling up the cellar stairs. The poor boy knew full well who was coming, and with a terrified look started up and hobbled off, supported by his clumsy crutches, round the corner of the house, whilst Pollie, who went in terror of the drunken woman, ran hastily up the dirty staircase, which served for all the inmates of the crowded house.

CHAPTER III.

HOW POLLY SPENT HER MONEY.

The first two or three flights of stairs were thickly strewn with mud and dust from the feet of the different lodgers; but when Pollie reached the last landing she felt it was home indeed. The stairs were as clean and white as hands could scrub them--no dirt was to be seen here,--and outside her mother's door was a little mat on which to rub the shoes before entering. It was quite a relief to reach this part of the house.

There were only two rooms at the top part of the tenement--one inhabited by good Mrs Flanagan, the other by Pollie and her mother; and though the apartments were small, and the narrow windows overlooked the chimney-pots and tiles, yet they felt it such an advantage to be up here, removed, as it were, from the noisy people who lived in the same dwelling; each room, in fact, was let out to separate families, some of them very rough and boisterous.

Pollie tapped at her mother's door, and then peeped merrily in. There sat that good and gentle woman, busily working close by the narrow window, so as to get as much light as possible for her delicate needlework.

The tea-things were already on the table, which was spread with a clean white cloth, and the kettle sang a cheery welcome to little Pollie; for though it was only three o'clock, it was tea-time for them, since dinner was an almost unknown luxury to this poor mother and child.

”Here I am, mother dear!” she cried, putting in her bright face, which was as suns.h.i.+ne to the lonely widow's heart.

”O Pollie, I am so glad you have come home; I was getting so anxious and afraid, and the time seemed so long without you, my child.”

Then the little girl ran in and threw her arms around her mother's neck.

”Only look here!” she cried delightedly, when after a loving kiss she proceeded to display her riches; ”see, mother,” she said, arranging the money all in a row on the table, the bright s.h.i.+lling flanked on either side by five brown pennies; ”are we not rich now? sixpence must be paid to kind Mrs. Flanagan for the sweet violets she got for me, and then we shall have one s.h.i.+lling and fourpence left, and I shall buy lots of things for you, mother darling,” she concluded, clapping her hands in glee.

The widow smiled cheerfully as she folded up her work, and prepared to get their simple meal of tea and bread, listening the while as the child related the events of the morning.

”And now, mother,” she pursued, ”I must divide these dear sweet violets between you and Mrs. Flanagan.”

”Then here are two little cups which will be just the thing for them,”