since. Wottever is to be
done? I'm near mad about her--my pore little gel. And to think that
I--_I_ should ha' turned her aw'y!"

Sue listened with great consternation to this terrible tale. She forgot
all about poor Mary Jones and the penny pie which she hoped to smuggle
into the workroom for her dinner. She forgot everything in all the world
but the fact that Connie had come and gone again, and that Peter Harris
was full of the most awful despair and agony about her.

"I'm fit to die o' grief," said the man. "I dunno wot to do. The
perlice is lookin' for her 'igh an' low, and---- Oh Sue, I am near off
my 'ead!"

Sue thought for a minute.

"Is Father John looking for her too?" she said.

"W'y, yus--of course he be. I'm to meet the perlice again this
afternoon, an' we'll--we'll make a rare fuss."

"Yer'll find her, in course," said Sue. "W'y, there ain't a doubt," she
continued.

"Wot do yer mean by that?"

"There couldn't be a doubt," continued the girl; "for God, who brought
her back to us all, 'ull help yer if yer ax 'Im."

"Do yer believe that, Sue?"

"Sartin sure I do--I couldn't live if I didn't."

"You're a queer un," said Harris, he felt a strange sort of comfort in
the rough little girl's presence. It seemed to him in a sort of fashion
that there was truth in her words. She was very wise--wiser than most.
He had always respected her.

"You're a queer, sensible gel," he said then--"not like most. I am
inclined to believe yer. I'm glad I met yer; you were always Connie's
friend."

"Oh yus," said Sue; "I love her jest as though she were my real sister."

"An' yer do think as she'll come back again?"

"I'm sartin sure of it."

"Turn and walk with me a bit, Sue. I were near mad w'en I met yer, but
somehow you ha' given me a scrap o' hope."

"Mr. Harris," said Sue, all of a sudden, "you were cruel to Connie last
night; but w'en she comes back again you'll be different, won't yer?"

"I tuk the pledge this morning," said Harris in a gloomy voice.

"Then in course you'll be different. It were w'en yer tuk too much that
you were queer. W'en you're like you are now you're a wery kind man."

"Be I, Sue?" said Harris. He looked down at the small girl. "No one
else, unless it be pore Connie, iver called me a kind man."

"And I tell yer wot," continued Sue--"ef ye're sure she'll come back--as
sure as I am--she----"

"Then I am sure," said Harris. "I'm as sure as there's a sky above us.
There now!