staid mothers, as though
rejoicing in the warmer weather; for the winter had been very severe,
and many a night had they huddled together beside a hedge to keep
themselves warm when the snow was falling thickly around.

The buds on the trees, especially the elms, were filling, so that after
a few showers they would throw off their brown sheaths and put forth
their delicate green leaves to court the breeze; and as to the hedges,
they were already verdant. Yes, all creation was awaking, eager to
proclaim His praise who hath said "While the earth remaineth, seed-time
and harvest, cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night
shall not cease."

In the deep sheltered copse or hedgerows, primroses and violets were to
be found nestling amidst green leaves and soft moss, filling the air
with perfume. It always seems a pity to gather them where they bloom so
sweetly and linger so long, yet gathered they were and sent up to
London; some, indeed, were to be found in Sally Grimes' basket as she
stood outside the Bank, as she was standing on the day we first saw her.
She has certainly improved since then--no longer ragged or untidy, but
her hair is neatly plaited beneath a decent bonnet, and her shawl is
securely fastened, instead of flying in the wind as it used to do. She
is still very successful in "business," although she does not now rush
across the roads at peril of life or limb, nor does she thrust her
flowers into the faces of the passers-by, frightening timid people by
her roughness. No; all that is changed, and she has become a quiet,
steady girl.

Truth to tell, she is beginning to dislike the life she leads--not the
flowers; she loves them more than ever! and often looks after neat
little servants she sometimes sees, wishing to become like one of them.

Patience, Sally! who knows what may be by and by?

But where is little Pollie, that she is not with her trusty friend?

Poor little Pollie lies sick and ill at home, so pale and thin one would
scarcely recognise in that wan little face the Pollie of last
spring-time!

A severe cold, followed by slow fever, has laid her low, and though all
danger is over, she still continues so weak, too feeble to move;
therefore her dear mother or Lizzie Stevens lifts her from her bed and
lays her in an easy-chair which Mrs. Flanagan had borrowed, in which she
reclines all the day long, very patient and uncomplaining though the
poor little heart is often very sad as she