CHAPTER VI.
ON WATERLOO BRIDGE.
"I say, why don't yer come with me on Saturdays, Pollie?" asked Sally Grimes one Thursday evening as they wended their way homewards.
It was opera night, and the sale of their flowers had been very good, so that Sally, who had "cleared out," as she termed it, was elated with success. Even Pollie had only a small bunch left. Truth to tell, she always liked to keep a few buds to take home with her—just a few to brighten up their room, or those of their two dear friends.
She was tying up her blossoms, which had become unfastened, so that for the moment she did not reply to her companion's question, who asked again—
"Why don't yer come on Saturdays, eh? I allers does a good trade then."
"Mother likes to get ready for the Sabbath on that day. So we clean our room right out, so as to make it nice and tidy. Then I learn my hymns and texts for the Sunday-school, and then mother hears me say them over, so as to be sure I know them well; and oh, it's so happy!"
"Sunday-school!" repeated Sally; "is that where yer goes on Sundays? I see yer sometimes with books, eh? Lord do yer go there?"