There must have been some such thought as this in Susie's mind, for as she crept into bed after Elfie she said, "I did not think of it before, but you are my sister, Elfie, so I shall never forget to love you;" and she kissed her as she spoke.
Elfie threw her arms round her. "Say you'll love me always," she whispered; "for there's nobody else in all the world if you don't."
"I do love you," said Susie. "But oh, Elfie, I wish you'd believe God loves you too—that he is our Father."
"I don't know nothing about fathers; I never had a father," said Elfie. "But if you'll love me, perhaps I shall believe that God does, by-and-by—especially as the Lord Jesus was a poor man. I like to hear about that, because, you see, it makes it seem somehow that he knows all about poor people—even street rubbish like I am, if he had no bed and no home."
Before they went to sleep that night, Elfie had learned to repeat the Lord's Prayer almost perfectly (she could learn quickly if she liked); and at last dropped to sleep murmuring the words, "Our Father—our Father." And Susie thought over all she had heard that day of the heavenly Father's love; and at last fell asleep, to dream that her mother had come back to lift all the care off her shoulders, and shelter her from every rough wind that blew.
But Monday morning brought the every-day anxiety with it; and Susie's first thought was of the landlord, and what he would say when he came in the afternoon and found she had only tenpence of the rent saved up in the tin box. She tried to recall something of what she had heard the previous day—tried to cast her care upon God; but it was very hard; and it was not until she had knelt down and prayed, ay, and sobbed out her trouble before him, that she could believe any of it this morning, although she had felt so sure of it the day before.
Elfie had woke up first and gone out. She often did this if there was only a small piece of bread in the house, because then she could leave the bread for Susie, and pick up her breakfast at the market, or about the streets.
So, after eating her bread, Susie took out her work, sitting upon the low stool, with the blanket of the bed wrapped round her, for it was bitterly cold this morning, and they had no fire. They had been afraid to buy coals or wood, as they could not make up the rent. This was Susie's great anxiety this morning. What the landlord would say, she did not know. He was a gruff, cross man; and Susie dreaded his visit—sat trembling with fear at the thought of hearing him come up the stairs; and again and again lifted her heart in asking that they might not be turned out of their home.
[CHAPTER IV.]
ELFIE'S SIXPENCE.