"A roof of thatch is better than that of heaven," is an old Spanish
proverb, and means, doubtless, that the poorest accommodation is better
than none, or that which the streets provide. Jessica, clinging to the
Sister of Mercy's succouring hand, was gently led from the silence of
the streets to the still greater silence of an attic in a quiet byway.

Here, seated by the remains of a small fire in a narrow grate, she
watched with awkward interest, that was much like indifference, the
efforts of her rescuer to revive the dying embers. Soup was warmed for
her, but for a time she refused to take it.

"I am not hungry," she said. "Only tired--so tired! Why did you wake me,
lady?"

"I awoke you because you were unhappy, and it was dangerous for one so
young as you to lie asleep in the streets," replied the meek-eyed woman.
"But you must not call me 'lady'; I am not a lady. Call me 'Sister.'"

"But you are not my sister," said Jessica petulantly. "I haven't any
sister or brother, or father or mother."

"Poor thing!" said the woman, who by this time had made up a bed, plain
enough it is true, but luxurious after the cold doorsteps, and she now
helped Jessica to undress. "Poor thing, you are quite cold; and what are
all these bruises? Ah! why will men be so cruel, when Heaven is so
kind?"

"I don't know," said Jessica, who took the question as directed to
herself. "I don't know anything. Besides, all men ain't cruel. _He_
wasn't; he was kind--oh, so kind!"

"He--whom?" said the Sister. Then, as the girl did not reply, she looked
hard at her and sighed again.

"Now you will sleep," she said, "Will you kiss me?"

With the impulsiveness of girlhood Jessica threw her arms round the
linen-banded neck and kissed the Sister's pale face."

"Good-night," she said.

The Sister smoothed the coarse pillow, covered her up, and went softly
from the room.

When Jessica awoke the woman was again beside her with a cup of tea, and
some bread-and-butter. But the girl refused to eat.

"I am not hungry. I am not tired now, either, and I will go."

The Sister put her hand on the girl's arm. "Not yet," she said. "Where
have you to go?"

"Nowhere," Jessica answered listlessly.

"Then stay with me," said the woman kindly. "See"--she brought a basket
to the bedside--"here's some work. I will teach you to do this, and we
will live together. Will you not stay?"

Jessica looked at the work, and silently nodded acquiescence. But
neve