Frightened by this threat, or perhaps seeing how fruitless were her feeble struggles against the strong grasp of her preserver, the unhappy girl—she was but a girl—shrank down submissively on to the seat, still trembling and moaning, whilst brave-hearted Sally stood over her to prevent any further attempt at self-destruction. Pollie looked on in bewildered surprise at this sad scene, not knowing what to make of it; but she still kept her hold on the woman's dress, as if her small strength could be of any service; but Sally had told her to "hold on," and so she obeyed.
The woman was now sobbing bitterly. It was more than the child could bear to see any one in tears, so laying her little hand tenderly upon the sorrow-bowed head, she said very gently—
"Please don't cry, ma'am; it makes Sally and me so sad."
At that soft touch and soothing voice the woman looked up, and then the two children saw that she was very beautiful even now,—mere wreck as she seemed to be of all that is pure and lovely.
"Child!" she cried, "do you know what you touch?—a wretch not fit to crawl the earth much less be touched by innocent hands like yours."
Pollie shrank back in terror at these words, and the tone in which they were uttered, but Sally was equal to any emergency.
"Come, come," she exclaimed, "don't yer talk like that, frightening this little gal in that way; you just quiet yourself, and then we'll see yer safe home."
"Home!" was the response. "I have none, only the streets or the river." "Stuff and nonsense!" cried practical Sally. "No home!" repeated little Pollie; "how sad!"
"Now what's to be done?" debated the elder girl, somewhat puzzled as to the course to be pursued; "here's night coming on, and we can't leave you here, yer know."
"Let us take her home to my mother," exclaimed the child; "mother will know what to do."