Part 6 (1/2)

Would _she_ be gathered into that fold also? could there be room for _her_? Yes; the seed was sown on that hitherto rugged soil; it would take root and bring forth fruit for the Lord of the harvest.

Just as Sally had put on her time-worn shawl, and was bidding her kind friends ”good-night” before going home, heavy steps were heard ascending the stairs, and soon the portly form of Mrs. Flanagan entered the room.

”Well, here I am again,” she exclaimed, ”and right-down tired, I can tell you; why don't cooks know what they want, and order things in the morning? Dear, dear! what a walk I've had, to be sure--all the way to Grosvenor Square, and with such a load too!”

”Hush, please,” whispered Mrs. Turner, pointing to the sleeper.

”Who have you got there?” she asked in surprise.

In a few words, spoken in a subdued voice, the widow told the sad tale, and also of the two children's brave conduct.

”What be she like?” was the natural question; ”is it right to have her here, think ye?” she added.

Then, as if to satisfy herself on the first point, she stole softly to where the poor wanderer lay sleeping. The light on the table was but dim, not sufficient to enable her to see distinctly, so that she was compelled to kneel down to scan the face of the sleeping girl.

At that moment a bright flame shot up from the flickering fire, and lighted the corner where the bed had been made for the stranger.

There was a quick convulsive gasp.

”My G.o.d! oh, can it be?” the old woman cried in a hushed voice. ”No, no, I've been deceived too often. Quick! quick! a light!”

Mrs. Turner hurried with it to her side. She almost s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her in her eagerness; she gazed long and earnestly upon those wasted features, her breath coming thick and fast, almost as though her very heart was bursting. In silence she gave the light back into the hands of her wondering friend, then laying her head down on the pillow beside the fallen girl, and folding her arms around her, she sobbed out--

”My darling, my Nora! you've come back at last to your poor old mother!

Nothing but death shall part us now!”

CHAPTER VIII.

SALLY'S FIRST SUNDAY AT CHURCH.

A feeling of Sabbath peace stole over little Pollie as she issued forth from her humble home on her way to Sunday-school. All was still, so quiet; the very court, usually noisy, seemed hushed. None of its uproarious inhabitants were about, only poor crippled Jimmy was sitting on the door-step warming himself in the feeble sunlight that flickered down from among the crowded chimneys.

The little girl paused to speak a few kind words to him.

”I wish you could come with me,” she said; ”it is so nice.”

”What! be school nice?” repeated the boy, who seemed to have the same horror of learning as the more enlightened Sally Grimes.

”Yes,” she replied; ”indeed it is. They are all so kind to us there, and teach us such beautiful verses and texts about G.o.d and our Saviour.”

”Be that Him you told me on?” he asked. ”I ain't forgot what you told me afore--'Consider, and hear me, O Lord my G.o.d! lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death.'”

”Oh, you are a good boy!” exclaimed the child encouragingly. ”Now I will tell you my text for to-day, and when I come back you shall hear what my teacher says about 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'”

”'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,'” repeated the crippled boy with reverence. ”I'll not forget it, Pollie,” he added, as the little girl prepared to start again, fearing to be late for school.