the face of the sleeping girl.

At that moment a bright flame shot up from the flickering fire, and
lighted the corner where the bed had been made for the stranger.

There was a quick convulsive gasp.

"My God! oh, can it be?" the old woman cried in a hushed voice. "No,
no, I've been deceived too often. Quick! quick! a light!"

Mrs. Turner hurried with it to her side. She almost snatched it from her
in her eagerness; she gazed long and earnestly upon those wasted
features, her breath coming thick and fast, almost as though her very
heart was bursting. In silence she gave the light back into the hands of
her wondering friend, then laying her head down on the pillow beside the
fallen girl, and folding her arms around her, she sobbed out--

"My darling, my Nora! you've come back at last to your poor old mother!
Nothing but death shall part us now!"

CHAPTER VIII.

SALLY'S FIRST SUNDAY AT CHURCH.

A feeling of Sabbath peace stole over little Pollie as she issued forth
from her humble home on her way to Sunday-school. All was still, so
quiet; the very court, usually noisy, seemed hushed. None of its
uproarious inhabitants were about, only poor crippled Jimmy was sitting
on the door-step warming himself in the feeble sunlight that flickered
down from among the crowded chimneys.

The little girl paused to speak a few kind words to him.

"I wish you could come with me," she said; "it is so nice."

"What! be school nice?" repeated the boy, who seemed to have the same
horror of learning as the more enlightened Sally Grimes.

"Yes," she replied; "indeed it is. They are all so kind to us there, and
teach us such beautiful verses and texts about God and our Saviour."

"Be that Him you told me on?" he asked. "I ain't forgot what you told me
afore--'Consider, and hear me, O Lord my God! lighten mine eyes, lest I
sleep the sleep of death.'"

"Oh, you are a good boy!" exclaimed the child encouragingly. "Now I will
tell you my text for to-day, and when I come back you shall hear what my
teacher says about 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.'"

"'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. The well-worn co