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She was certainly very fortunate, for in spite of a stern-looking policeman who was watching her movements, she sold them, speedily returning with the money to little Pollie, who by this time was getting almost bewildered with the noise around. "There, my gal," said the kind girl, "there's the money for yer; look, six pennies. My! ain't yer rich.
"Is your mother dead, then? Oh dear, I am so sorry," said the child with earnest pity. "Yes, I am all alone in the world; no one to love or care for me," she exclaimed passionately. "Ah, I wish I was dead too." "Don't say so," said Pollie soothingly; "God cares for you, and loves you dearly."
Truth to tell, she is beginning to dislike the life she leads not the flowers; she loves them more than ever! and often looks after neat little servants she sometimes sees, wishing to become like one of them. Patience, Sally! who knows what may be by and by? But where is little Pollie, that she is not with her trusty friend?
"Oh dear!" she thought, "I am rich now. I must make haste home to mother, and I've two bunches of violets still left. Mother shall have one and Mrs. Flanagan the other." Pollie tied up the money securely in the corner of her clean pocket-handkerchief, and with a light heart proceeded towards "home," which was situated in the neighbourhood of Drury Lane.
Then I learn my hymns and texts for the Sunday-school, and then mother hears me say them over, so as to be sure I know them well; and oh, it's so happy!" "Sunday-school!" repeated Sally; "is that where yer goes on Sundays? I see yer sometimes with books, eh? Lord do yer go there?" "Yes; would you like to go with me?" Pollie suddenly asked, looking up at her friend with delight at the mere idea.
Pollie could not cook she could not figure she could not keep store she could not read the "Philosophical Dictionary" nor could she even listen while her husband read, without nodding her sleepy head. No baby came to rescue her from the shoals, and by responsibility and care win her safely back to sanity. Poor Pollie Lumm Girard! Poor Silly Sailorman!
Pollie could not explain it correctly, but she did her best to make it easy to his benighted mind. She gave him her idea of what prayer is. "It is speaking to God," she said with reverence. "And will He listen to the likes of me?" was the question. "Oh yes, if you pray to Him with your whole heart," was her reply. The boy paused awhile, as though musing upon what she had said.
"Come over to us sometimes," said the child, eagerly. "Will your mother let me?" was the question. "Yes, I am sure she will; she is so good," was the reply. And then the two friends went on up Drury Lane, not speaking much; but as they were parting Lizzie stooped down, and kissing the child lovingly, said softly "Good-bye, and thank you, little Pollie."
The visitor instantly rose, while Fan, released from his grip, her face crimson with shame, slunk away, trembling with apprehension. "Captain Horton, what is the meaning of this?" demanded the lady. "Why nothing a mere trifle a joke, Pollie. Your little girl doesn't mind being kissed by a friend of the family that's all."
"She is too young to feel your words, perhaps, but they are nothing less than insulting to my judgment." "Oh, confound it, Pollie, you are always flying out at me! I dare say she's a good girl she looks it, but if you want me to say that she's good-looking, I can't be such a hypocrite even to please you." Miss Starbrow flashed a keen glance at him, and then without replying turned to Mr. Brown.
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