The Little Woman in Black.
“Come home with me,” said the little woman by Flo’s side.
She had thrown up her veil now, and the face the child saw was nearly as pale and sad as her own. She hardly noticed it, however, she was absorbed in a recognition. The little woman in black had the gentle voice and kind eyes, the little woman in black was her friend of the Derby Day.
“My dear, I am real glad to find you again. You shall come to my house and have a bit of dinner.”
“No, ma’am,” said Flo, shaking away her hand, “I knows yer, ma’am, and you is werry kind. But I’m not a goin’ ’ome wid yer, missis; I’m not ’spectable to be in yer ’ouse. Dick, ’ee be a thief and in prison, I’m not ’spectable no more.”
Flo said this without tears, and defiantly.
“Oh, my dear, you are quite respectable enough for me. You are poor and in trouble, child—just the one that Jesus Christ wants; and surely if the King of Glory wants you, I may want you too.”
“Wot’s glory?” asked Flo.
“Glory, child; that’s where the King lives.”
“Ain’t kings and queens the same?”