"That's the thing!" assented Sally, and the widow agreeing to the plan, they soon had a comfortable bed ready for the stranger. The poor creature suffered them to remove her hat and dress, then they laid her down, and she rested, thankful for the shelter so cheerfully given, humble though it was.
She was still very beautiful. Her golden brown hair, released from its massive braids, fell in rippling waves around her; the long black lashes, now that the eyes were closed, lay like a silken fringe upon the pale and wasted cheeks. Yes, she was very beautiful; and as the good Samaritans stood looking at her (the children with wondering pity), the widow thought of the time when this lost girl was tenderly loved by parents, who perhaps were even now sorrowing for their erring child.
It was getting late, and as it was Pollie's bedtime the mother and child prepared to read their evening chapter. Sally, too, sat down by the fire to listen, wondering in her own mind what they were about. It was all so strange to this poor London waif, this cleanly, peaceful home, this simple worship.
The appointed chapter for this evening was the parable of the Good Shepherd, and the girl's attention was riveted by those words of Divine love and mercy.
"And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear My voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd."
Would she be gathered into that fold also? could there be room for her? Yes; the seed was sown on that hitherto rugged soil; it would take root and bring forth fruit for the Lord of the harvest.
Just as Sally had put on her time-worn shawl, and was bidding her kind friends "good-night" before going home, heavy steps were heard ascending the stairs, and soon the portly form of Mrs. Flanagan entered the room.
"Well, here I am again," she exclaimed, "and right-down tired, I can tell you; why don't cooks know what they want, and order things in the morning? Dear, dear! what a walk I've had, to be sure—all the way to Grosvenor Square, and with such a load too!"
"Hush, please," whispered Mrs. Turner, pointing to the sleeper.