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Updated: June 13, 2025
"Come to tea, my child," said the mother, who had cut some slices of bread for the frugal repast, but which she had no appetite to eat. "Wait a bit, mammie dear, I must do some shopping first," exclaimed Pollie; "I shall not be long." And away she ran, gaily laughing at her mother's look of surprise.
"Are you selling these violets, my child?" she asked; and her voice was so sweet. "Yes, ma'am." "Then will you let me have three bunches?" Pollie with a smile put them into her hand, and the lady, after thanking her, placed the money for them in the child's basket, and went towards a carriage that was drawn up near the Royal Exchange.
Sally Grimes, young as she was, possessed it in a wonderful degree; therefore, without wasting another word, she compelled the forlorn creature to go with her, little Pollie still keeping hold of the poor thing's dress. Mrs.
Little Pollie stood amidst the people who were hustling each other to get as near the door as possible. What was to be done? how was she to get into the house? and oh, how anxious her mother would be at her long absence!
"'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," repeated the crippled boy with reverence. "I'll not forget it, Pollie," he added, as the little girl prepared to start again, fearing to be late for school. As she turned into Drury Lane, to her great surprise there stood Sally Grimes, looking strangely shy, but tidily and, above all, neatly dressed.
She went on unto the end, the bigger girl listening the while with almost breathless eagerness, and when it was finished they both remained silent. Evidently those beautiful verses had struck a chord hitherto mute in the heart of the poor untaught London waif. "Oh, but that's fine!" she murmured at last in hushed tones. "Tell me something else, Pollie."
"Poor Jimmy!" repeated the little girl. "Would you like some of my sweet violets?" The boy, unused to even a breath of kindness, gazed some few seconds at her with his eager eyes. "You be Pollie Turner, bain't yer, what lives upstairs with yer mother?" he asked at last. "Yes," she replied, and repeated her question, as she took some of the flowers from her last bunch. "Would you like these?"
"Oh, thank you, thank you, ma'am!" cried Pollie, holding up her face to kiss the kind woman, who, totally unused to such affectionate gratitude in the poor little waifs about Drury Lane, bent down and returned the caress with a feeling of unwonted tenderness tugging at her heart. "And now, please, I should like a bunch of water-cresses for Mrs. Flanagan," said the child.
Poor little Pollie lies sick and ill at home, so pale and thin one would scarcely recognise in that wan little face the Pollie of last spring-time! A severe cold, followed by slow fever, has laid her low, and though all danger is over, she still continues so weak, too feeble to move; therefore her dear mother or Lizzie Stevens lifts her from her bed and lays her in an easy-chair which Mrs.
"Well then, Pollie," said her new friend kindly, "here is the money for the violets; and take this shilling: it will buy something for your mother, perhaps. I shall come and see you one day." So saying she patted Pollie's thin cheeks with a soft loving touch; then stepping into the carriage was driven away, leaving Pollie in a state of wonderful happiness at so much kindness from so nice a lady.
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