The woman looked at the flowers again. "It's a hard world," she said; "I wish I could think there ever could be anything different."
"There will be for those who will look to Jesus," said Nellie. "Think over that, will you? And you will find everything will look altered."
The woman glanced round the dingy room and sighed.
"I'll look in again as I come down, if I can," said Nellie.
So she ascended to the very top, and knocked at the door of the front room.
Tom Taylor's boy might have lived in a very different room from this; but his father's good earnings were spent at the public-house at the corner of the street, and the poor little boy often went short even of the necessaries of life.
Nellie knocked at the door, and a thin, querulous voice bade her "come in."
She entered. In the room were two small beds, and on one of these, at some distance from the window, lay a boy of about ten or eleven years. He was somewhat propped up by two pillows, but still he seemed obliged to lie very flat. Over his shoulders an old worn jacket was drawn and buttoned in the front, which did not however hide the soiled and tattered shirt beneath.
Nellie had been there once before, and she knew the smell of the close little room; but she came forward to the bedside.
"Tom," she said tenderly, "I have been sent to you with a present."