e had found, she thought, the place where
her silver dime belonged; so she dropped it into Sarah's hand as she
passed, with a smile, and went on her way. This time she got an
unmistakable smile in return, and it made her glad.

So she was in a class with a street-sweeper! Matilda reflected as she
went on down Broadway. Well, what of it? They would think it very odd
at home! And somehow it seemed odd to Matilda herself. Had she got a
little out of her place in going to Mr. Rush's Sunday school? Could it
be best that such elegant robes, made by Mme. Fournissons, should sit
in the same seat with a little street girl's brown rags? "She was not
ragged on Sunday, though," thought Matilda; "poor enough; and some of
those boys were street boys, I dare say. However, Mr. Wharncliffe is a
gentleman; there is no doubt of that; and he likes his class; some of
them are good, I think. And if they are, Jesus loves them. He loves
them whether or no. How odd it is that we don't!"--

Matilda went on trying to remember all that Sarah had said in the
school; but the different speakers and words were all jumbled up in her
mind, and she could not quite separate them. She forgot Sarah then in
the delightful business of choosing a dress for Letitia; a business so
difficult withal that it was like to last a long time, if Matilda had
not remembered one o'clock. She feared she would be late; yet a single
minute more of talk with the street girl she must have; she walked up
to Fourteenth street. Sarah was there yet, busy at her post. She had a
smile again for Matilda.

"Are you not tired?" the rich child asked of the poor one.

"I don't think of being tired," was the answer.

"What time do you go home to dinner?"

"Dinner?" said Sarah; and she shook her head. "I don't go home till
night. I can't."

"But how do you take your dinner?" Matilda asked.

The girl flushed a little, and hesitated. "I can take it here," she
said.

"Standing? and in this crowd?"

"No.--I go and sit down somewheres. 'Tain't such a dinner as you have.
It's easy took."

"Sarah," said Matilda suddenly, "you love Jesus, don't you?"

"Who?" she said, for the noise and rush of horses and carriages in the
streets was tremendous, and the children both sprang back to the
sidewalk just then out of the way of something. "Jesus? Was it _that_
you asked?"

She stood leaning on her broom and looking at her questioner. Matilda
could see better now how thin the face was, how