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"I was on'y thinkin', marm, that if you wants to befriend us poor boys they calls us waifs an' strays an' all sorts of unpurlite names you've on'y got to send a sov, or two to Miss Annie Macpherson, 'Ome of Hindustry, Commercial Street, Spitalfields, an' you'll be the means o' doin' a world o' good as I 'eard a old gen'l'm with a white choker on say the wery last time I was down there 'avin' a blow out o' bread an' soup."
"Yes, that's the name 'Ome of Hindustry, what sends off so many ragged boys to Canada under Miss Macpherson." "Ay, Bobby, it does a great deal more than that," returned the girl. "Sending off poor boys and girls to Canada is only one branch of its work. If you'd bin to its tea-meetin's for the destitute, as I have, an' its clothin' meetin's and its mothers' meetin's, an "
Hetty did, on hearing this, look as if her breath had been taken away. When it returned sufficiently she said: "Bobby, what put that into your head?" "The 'Ome of Hindustry," said Bobby with a mysterious look. "The Home of Industry," repeated the girl in surprise, for she knew that Institution well, having frequently assisted its workers in their labour of love.
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