But Esther took the child to the corner of the room, and washed and cried over her together. "It's but ragged an' shabby she be, sir, but I couldn't do no better—not even for my own," she said.
"I am sure of it," said Leveson kindly; and as he rose he held out his hand for a hearty grasp. "We owe you a heavy debt, Mrs. Forsyth, and I will take care it is not forgotten."
With Lettie's hand clasped in his own, and her little feet pattering by his side, he went down the broad staircase, and out into the gloomy street. What a place! To think that his little sister could have lived here so long! He looked down on the small grave face, and then, as they came to some sharp stones, he lifted her up in his arms, pitying the tiny feet. Lettie submitted in silence. A gentleman to be carrying her! It was something unusual, certainly, in her experience, and she waited to see what would happen next.
To Leveson it mattered nothing at all that people stared at the sight of the well-dressed young clergyman carrying such a ragged little object through the streets. What signified rags to him? He only pressed her the closer in his arms, with a rush of love, and Lettie looked up in wonder to say:
"Is you glad?"
"Glad! My dear little sister!" was the response.
And Lettie's serious face showed that some comprehension of the truth was gaining entrance into her mind.
