Little Pollie | Page 9

with her."
"Oh then!" exclaimed Pollie, laughing, "I must just let myself in, and
wait for mother; I know where she puts our key. Good-night, Jimmy
dear."

And she was going up the stairs when she felt the little cripple boy
gently pull her frock to detain her.
"I say, Pollie," he said hesitatingly, "I be so lonesome here, will yer
mind biding with me and telling me about the kingdom of heaven, and
that good man what took such as you and me in his arms--like you told
me t'other day?"
"Oh yes, Jimmy, that I will," cried the little girl; "here, let us sit on this
lowest stair; I don't think many people will be passing up now, and then
I shall see mother when she comes in."
The poor ragged outcast crept near to his tiny friend as she requested,
and then sat looking up into her bright face, whilst in simple words
such as a child would use she told him that sweet story of old--of our
Saviour, a babe in the manger of Bethlehem--His loving tenderness to
us--of His death upon the Cross for our redemption--of His glorious
resurrection and ascension to heaven, whither He has gone to prepare a
place for those who love and believe Him.
"And does He want me in that beautiful land?" asked the awe-struck
boy, almost in a whisper.
"Yes, Jimmy, even you," was the reply.
"But I be so dirty and ugly," he said.
"God made you, dear, and He makes nothing ugly," replied the little
girl soothingly.
"And you say we shall never hunger or thirst in heaven, and never feel
pain any more. O Pollie, I wish I was there; nobody wants me here."
His little friend took his claw-like hand tenderly in hers and stroked it
gently. She knew what a wretched life was his, and could not wonder at
what he said--"nobody wants me here"--but her heart was full of
sympathy for his loneliness.

"Shall I teach you a prayer to say to Jesus, Jimmy?" she asked after a
pause of some length, during which her companion had been silently
gazing up at the only piece of sky that was visible in that narrow court,
as though trying to imagine where heaven really was, the child having
pointed upwards whilst speaking of the home beyond the grave.
"What is prayer?" he asked.
Pollie could not explain it correctly, but she did her best to make it easy
to his benighted mind. She gave him her idea of what prayer is.
"It is speaking to God," she said with reverence.
"And will He listen to the likes of me?" was the question.
"Oh yes, if you pray to Him with your whole heart," was her reply.
The boy paused awhile, as though musing upon what she had said.
"Pollie," he presently entreated in hushed tones, "please teach me to
pray."
And then at the foot of the stairs knelt those two children--children of
the same heavenly Father, lambs of the dear Saviour's fold--alike and
yet so unlike; and the poor outcast cripple, following the actions of the
little girl, meekly folded his hands as she clasped hers, and with eyes
raised heavenward to where a few stars were now softly shining, he
repeated after her--
"Consider and hear me, O Lord my God! lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep
the sleep of death; for Jesus' sake!"
He murmured the blessed words over two or three times after she had
ceased to speak; then in silence they sat down upon the stair again, to
wait for mother.
The daylight faded quite away, only the stars were shining. The court at
this time of the evening was always very quiet, and the peace of God
was resting on those little ones. By degrees a calm had fallen upon the

poor boy's soul. Never, never so happy before, he laid his weary head
upon the little girl's lap with a feeling of perfect rest, murmuring to
himself--
"For Jesus' sake."
And so Pollie's mother found them fast asleep, with the star-light
shining on their upturned faces.
"Of such is the kingdom of heaven."
CHAPTER VI.
ON WATERLOO BRIDGE.
"I say, why don't yer come with me on Saturdays, Pollie?" asked Sally
Grimes one Thursday evening as they wended their way homewards.
It was opera night, and the sale of their flowers had been very good, so
that Sally, who had "cleared out," as she termed it, was elated with
success. Even Pollie had only a small bunch left. Truth to tell, she
always liked to keep a few buds to take home with her--just a few to
brighten up their room, or those of their two dear friends.
She was tying up her blossoms, which had become unfastened, so that
for