or--so I sneaked in wi'
the rest--for I thought they'd kick me hout if they knowed I'd come
without inwitation."

"Well, and what then?" asked Hetty.

Here our little street-Arab began to tell, in his own peculiar language
and style, how that he went in, and found a number of ladies in an upper
room with forms set, and hot tea and bread to be had--as much as they
could stuff--for nothing; that the boys were very wild and unruly at
first, but that after the chief lady had prayed they became better, and
that when half-a-dozen nice little girls were brought in and had sung a
hymn or two they were quite quiet and ready to listen. Like many other
people, this city Arab did not like to speak out freely, even to his
sister, on matters that touched his feelings deeply, but he said enough
to let the eager and thankful Hetty know that not only had Jesus and His
love been preached to the boys, but she perceived that what had been
said and sung had made an unusual impression, though the little ragged
waif sought to conceal it under the veil of cool pleasantry, and she now
recognised the fact that the prayers which she had been putting up for
many a day in her brother's behalf had been answered.

"Oh! I'm so happy," she said; and, unable to restrain herself, flung
her arms round Bobby's neck and kissed him.

It was evident that the little fellow rather liked this, though he
pretended that he did not.

"Come, old gal," he said brusquely, "none o' that sort o' thing. I
can't stand it. Don't you see, the popilation is lookin' at us in
surprise; besides, you've bin an' crushed all my shirt front!"

"But," continued Hetty, as they walked on again, "I'm not happy to hear
that you are goin' to Canada. What ever will I do without you, Bobby?"

Poor girl, she could well afford to do without him in one sense, for he
had hitherto been chiefly an object of anxiety and expense to her,
though also an object of love.

"I'm sorry to think of goin' too, Hetty, for your sake an' mother's, but
for daddy's sake and my own I _must_ go. You see, I can't 'old hout
agin 'im. W'en 'e makes up 'is mind to a thing you know 'e sticks to
it, for 'e's a tough un; an' 'e's got sitch a wheedlin' sort o' way with
'im that I can't 'elp givin' in a'most. So, you see, it'll be better
for both of us that I should go away. But I'll come back, you know,
Hetty, with a fortin--see if I don't--an' then, oh! won't I keep a
carridge an' a ridin' 'oss for dad