"Oh, my dear, that is very sad."
The hazel eyes softened suddenly, and grew misty with tears. She could not recollect that anyone had ever called her "my dear" before, and it touched her that the little gentleman had done so.
"I don't say any prayers," she explained; "what would be the use? God wouldn't listen to me."
"Oh yes, He would! Why do you think He would not?"
"Because I ain't good. Gran says I'm about as bad a girl as she ever knew. Oh no, God wouldn't listen to me!"
"You are mistaken, indeed you are. God loves you. You are His child—a very naughty child, I dare say, who often grieves Him; nevertheless you must not doubt that He loves you, and you must never imagine that He will not listen to your prayers. I suppose I must not detain you longer now, or you will be late for school; but some day I will call at your home, and—"
"Oh, I think you'd better not!" Melina interposed; "Gran would be sure to be rude to you if you did. She slammed the door in the vicar's face once; she won't let you come into the house. Oh please, please don't call, sir!" Her face was full of distress.
"Very well," he agreed, after a brief consideration. Melina drew a deep breath of relief, and then they exchanged good mornings, and she went on to school, her thoughts all about the little gentleman. She wondered what he was called, and if he had a wife and children—she thought that very likely he had.
"I expect he is very good and kind to them," she reflected; "it must be nice to have a father; I wish mine would come back!"
When Melina came out of school at midday she did not dawdle about the streets as usual, but went straight home. Thinking her grandmother might be asleep, she entered the house as noiselessly as possible, and went quickly upstairs. She pushed open the door of her grandmother's room and peeped in, with difficulty repressing a cry of astonishment the next moment at the scene which met her view. Mrs. Berryman was out of bed and kneeling before the fireplace, her back to the door, and on the hearthstone were several piles of gold and silver coins, which she had evidently been counting. Whilst Melina stood staring at her, struck dumb with amazement, the old woman took the money, pile by pile, and packed it into a small tin box, which, subsequently, she thrust into the chimney, behind the damper.