Little Maggie, having been trained to endurance and obedience, soon became a favourite at school. She had a good deal of her father's longing for learning, so found favour with the teachers; and her cleanliness of person and clothing prevented the poverty of her garments from being noticed, and won her the companionship of the little girls above mentioned. Their homes lay in the same direction, and they became inseparable companions on the road. Mrs. Livesey was pleased that two of the nicest children in the school "had taken up with Maggie," and she would not have liked to interfere with such a friendship.
Naturally the children wished to be together at the Sunday as well as the day school, and Maggie, having been urged thereto by her friends, preferred her request on the Saturday night, though in much fear and trembling.
[CHAPTER IX.]
FARTHER APART, YET NEARER.
"I DON'T know why Jessie and Alice Mitchell should begin bothering about you going to Sunday school," said Mrs. Livesey in a sharp tone. "Their mother doesn't want them. She has a girl, and can go out herself when she likes. What has started them now? You've gone to school for a year without being together on Sundays."
"They have often asked me, but I said you wanted me," whimpered Maggie.
"They might know that without telling," said Mrs. Livesey, and at the moment she gave Maggie's newly washed hair a tug which brought tears into the child's eyes.
"There, there! I didn't mean to hurt you. It's no use talking about Sunday school. You haven't a hat and frock fit to go there in, so say no more about it."
Maggie knew better than to disobey. She crept upstairs to bed in silence, and only indulged in the luxury of a few quiet tears. But she was too tired to remain long awake, and she soon forgot her troubles in dreamless sleep.
What had set Jessie and Alice Mitchell into a state of anxiety to take their friend to school was this.