"God help you, my poor child, you are welcome here."
Then the flood-gates of the unhappy girl's heart were opened, and leaning her head on the widow's shoulder she sobbed aloud.
Meanwhile Pollie, assisted by her faithful friend, was busy getting the tea ready, thinking it would refresh their strange visitor; and whilst Sally cut some bread-and-butter the child arranged her violets in a cup, to make, as she said, "the table look pretty." But the stranger was unable to partake of the simple meal; she seemed utterly worn and weary, for, leaning her head upon the arm of the chair, she lapsed into an apathetic sleep, as though completely exhausted.
Whilst she thus slept, Sally Grimes (who had been invited to remain) told Mrs. Turner in a whisper all that had taken place that evening.
"May God bless you, my dear," said the widow fervently; "you are indeed a good girl."
"But Pollie helped me," exclaimed the warm-hearted girl.
The mother looked at her delicate little child, and smiled to think of those tiny hands doing their part in saving this woman.
Then she turned for counsel to Sally.
"I have but this one bed," she said hesitatingly, "and—and—I should not like her to sleep with Pollie; what shall I do?"
"Let us make her a nice bed on the floor," suggested the child.