Little Pollie | Page 2

yer know. There St. Poll's a-strikin' ten; good-bye."
So saying, the friendly Sally Grimes darted off amidst the crowd, leaving the child to manage for herself, and very lonely she felt after her good-natured ally was gone.
It was Pollie Turner's first attempt at selling flowers, and this her first day.
No wonder the poor child felt shy and sad, for she could remember the time when "father" used to come home at eventide to the small but cosy cottage in that green lane, far, far away in the pleasant country; and she used to stand at the gate to watch for his coming, sometimes running half-way up the lane to meet him, and he would perch her on his shoulder, where she felt, oh! so safe, and bring her home to mother. Or she would climb his knee as he sat by the fire, and watch dear mother get the nice supper; but father was dead now. She had seen the pretty daisies growing above his grassy grave in that distant churchyard; and the mother, who had come up to London hoping to do better, was so ill and weak, scarcely able to do the needlework with which to gain food for them both.
And Mrs. Flanagan had proposed the plan of Pollie starting in business. So this is how it had all come about.
Pollie stood silently thinking over these events of the happy times gone by, when some one touched her arm softly, and then she looked up into the sweet face of a lady, whose kind eyes were bent half-sadly, half-pityingly upon her.
"Are you selling these violets, my child?" she asked; and her voice was so sweet.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then will you let me have three bunches?"
Pollie with a smile put them into her hand, and the lady, after thanking her, placed the money for them in the child's basket, and went towards a carriage that was drawn up near the Royal Exchange.
The child, lost in admiration at such a nice lady, followed her with her eyes, never thinking to look at the money she had given for the flowers, until glancing into the basket to see how many bunches were still left, she beheld a shilling shining amidst the dingy coppers. Eager to return the money to its rightful owner, little Pollie darted amongst the people who thronged the pavement, ran across the road at the risk of being run over, and reached the lady just as she was stepping into her carriage.
"Please, ma'am, please," she faltered quite out of breath, and at the same time pulling her violently by the dress.
"Let go, you little vagabond!" exclaimed the indignant footman, taking Pollie by the arm to pull her away.
Fortunately the lady turned on hearing her servant speak thus, and saw the child struggling in his grip.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Please, ma'am, this," cried Pollie, holding up the shilling.
"That is for the violets you sold to me."
"Oh no, ma'am, it is all wrong," exclaimed the child excitedly; "those flowers are but three-pence--a penny a bunch; that's all. Here is your money, ma'am!"
The lady gazed earnestly into the little girl's flushed face, as she asked--
"Why did you not keep that shilling?"
"Because it was not mine," was the answer.
"I should not have known but that the money was correct. You did not say the price of your flowers, my child."
"God knew the price," said Pollie reverentially, "and He would have been angry with me for cheating you, ma'am."
"Who taught you of God?" asked the lady softly, as she bent down to the little one.
"Mother!" was the reply.
"And is your mother dead?" she questioned, perceiving for the first time the child's poor mourning.
"No, ma'am, but father is, and mother is so ill and weak," and the shy brown eyes filled with tears.
"Poor child, poor little child," murmured the lady compassionately. "What is your name?" she asked after a pause, "and where do you live?"
Pollie gave the desired information.
"Well then, Pollie," said her new friend kindly, "here is the money for the violets; and take this shilling: it will buy something for your mother, perhaps. I shall come and see you one day."
So saying she patted Pollie's thin cheeks with a soft loving touch; then stepping into the carriage was driven away, leaving Pollie in a state of wonderful happiness at so much kindness from so nice a lady.
"Oh dear!" she thought, "I am rich now. I must make haste home to mother, and I've two bunches of violets still left. Mother shall have one and Mrs. Flanagan the other."
CHAPTER II.
WHO HAD THE VIOLETS!
Pollie tied up the money securely in the corner of her clean pocket-handkerchief, and with a light heart proceeded towards "home," which was situated in the neighbourhood of Drury Lane.
It was a long way for so young a child to traverse alone; but