ing the way," and the
people standing round began to laugh. The tears rose to the little boy's
eyes.

"Oh! what shall I do?" he cried, "and to-morrow is Isabel's birthday."

Then came a little voice beside him.

"Sir--may I offer it? Will you accept this sou from me?" and a small
hand held out the coin. It was little Gay.

"Oh thank you, thank you," exclaimed Laurence joyfully, and the grim
clerk received the sou and the parcel was handed to him.

How he thanked the kind little girl! She was there with her mother, and
while the good woman was choosing an umbrella at a stand close by, Gay,
as I must still call her, had noticed her little friend and wondered
what he was in difficulty about. And of all the people near him in the
shop, she alone had the kind thought of offering him the sou.

I need not tell you that after this the good little girl was looked upon
by Laurence as quite a friend. He went with Emma the next morning to pay
back the five centime piece, and when New Year's Day came, a pretty
present for Gabrielle, which was her real name, was one of the gifts
which Laurence and his mother had the greatest pleasure in choosing.

Was it not nice that the little girl was called "Gabrielle," for
Laurence was able to go on calling her "Gay," as it made such a good
short name for the real one.

[Illustration]

PANSY'S PANSY.

THE FLOWER MARKET

PART I.

There was a flower-market once a week in the town of Northclough.

It was every Thursday, the regular market-day, when the country people
came in to sell and to buy. But Northclough was not a pretty,
old-fashioned country town, such as you would very likely fancy from the
mention of markets and country folk. Once, long ago, it had been a
village, a rather lonely and out-of-the-way village, though never a
pretty one. For it was up in the north, as its name tells, in a bare and
cold part of the world, where the grass is never very brightly green,
and the skies much more often grey than blue.

[Illustration: "The Nurse"]

And now, as far as looks go, any way, it had changed from bad to worse.
The village had grown into a smoky town, where there were lots of high
chimneys, and constant sounds of machinery booming away, and railway
trains shrieking and whistling in and out of the stations. There was no
longer any ivy on the old church, which the oldest people could remember
almost buried in it. And the new churches which had been built since,
alrea