“No, indeed, Flo, you wrong Him there. Your heavenly Father will hear your little humble words just as readily and just as quickly as any prayer the Queen might offer up to Him.”
“Well, then, we’ll both pray,” said Flo, a smile breaking over her white face. “The Queen and me, we’ll both pray, the two of us, to God—He’ll ’ave ’er big prayer and my little prayer to look hout fur; so you’ll fetch me the ribbon, ma’am dear.”
Mrs Jenks did so, and from that day every afternoon Flo put it on and waited in eager expectancy to see the Queen, more and more sure that when they both—the poor little London child and the greatest woman in the world—sent up their joint petitions to Heaven, strength would return to her languid frame, and she could go back, to be a help and comfort to her dear Mrs Jenks.
At last the auspicious day arrived, a day long to be remembered by the poor of the East End. How gay the banners looked as they waved in the air, stretching across from housetop to housetop right over the streets!
At the eastern boundary of the City was a great band of coloured canvas bearing the word “Welcome.” And as the Royal procession passed into Whitechapel High-street the whole thoroughfare was one bright line of Venetian masts, with streamers of flags hanging from every house, and of broad bands of red, with simple mottoes on them.
But better to the heart of the Queen of England than any words of welcome were the welcoming crowds of people. These thronged the footways, filled the shop-windows, assembled on the unrailed ledges of the house-fronts, on the pent-houses in front of the butchers’ shops, and stood out upon the roofs.
Yes, this day would long be remembered by the people in the East End, and of course most of all by those in the great Hospital which the Queen was to visit.
But here, there was also disappointment. It was discovered that in the list of wards arranged for Her Majesty to see, the Buxton Ward in the Alexandra Wing was not mentioned. More than one nurse and more than one doctor felt sorry, as they recalled the little face of the gentle, dying child, who had been waiting for so many days full of hope and longing for the visit which, it seemed, could not be paid to her.
But the day before, Flo had said to Mr Rowsell, the Deputy Chairman—
“I shall see the Queen, and then I shall get well.”