"I suppose the Sunday-school was made for just such children to begin with," said the shop-girl.
"They might go to the mission school, then," replied the strange lady. "It does not seem as though that elegant school-room could be meant for such ragamuffins."
"You can go up-stairs, my little girl, and see Miss Powell," said the shop-girl, glancing at Nelly, and seeing, from her rising colour and eyes filled with tears, that she had heard and understood the conversation. "You will find her sitting by the window, at work; and please carry her this red braid and ask her if there is any more like it. Will you?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Nelly, brightening up, and feeling comforted, as Miss Kirkland intended she should, by being intrusted with this little commission. "Shall I come and tell you what she says?"
"If you please," said Miss Kirkland; and Nelly skipped up the long stairs, feeling much relieved. She found Miss Powell sitting on a low seat by the window, working at a beautiful piece of embroidery. She had a large box by her side, filled with ends of worsted of every shade and colour, from which she now and then pulled out a thread. She was deeply engaged in counting stitches in her pattern; and Nelly, who often seemed to show an instinctive sense of good manners, stood by her in silence, waiting to be noticed.
"Ah, Nelly! Is this you?" said Miss Powell, looking up at last. "I was wondering what had become of you. How does your tatting get on?"
"I have learned to do it," said Nelly. "I thought I never should; but I did. But please, the lady down-stairs wants to know is there any more of this braid."
"Tell her there is a whole box on the upper shelf, with the tape. Can you remember that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Nelly sped down with her errand, and, presently returning, produced her work for inspection.