"And is she your only relative? Your father—what of him?"
"He went away—I don't know where—years ago, when I was a baby. I don't remember him. Gran's always saying he'll come back some day. I wish he would; p'r'aps he'd be kinder than Gran."
The little gentleman looked at her pityingly. "Poor little girl," he said, "you must let me be your friend, will you?"
"Oh, sir!" exclaimed Melina in amazement. "I—oh, you can't mean it! You are a gentleman, and I—" She broke off with an expressive glance at her ragged frock.
"I do mean it," he said, smiling; "I hope to make many friends in this parish before long, and I shall count you as my first. By the way, you have not told me your name?"
"It is Melina Berryman, sir."
"Well, then, Melina, remember that I am your friend, and you will know that there is some one in Hawstock who is not against you—some one who would do you a good turn if he could and will pray for you to our Father in heaven."
"Do you mean God?" asked Melina.
He assented. "'If God be for us, who can be against us?'" he quoted.
The little girl gave him a quick, shrewd glance. "You ain't a parson," she said; "I wonder what makes you talk like that! I don't want to think of God. I'm afraid—" She broke off abruptly.