wo dollars; now
the dress she was on her way to buy for Letitia would take two dollars
and a half more; there was already almost five gone of her twenty. And
of even her pennies she had only two left, with the silver bit.
"However, they won't expect me to give them anything _again_ as I go
back," she thought, referring to the street sweepers. "Once in one
morning will do, I suppose."

Just as she said this to herself, she had come to another crossing, a
very busy one, where carts and carriages were incessantly turning down
or coming up; keeping the sweeper in work. It was a girl this time; as
old or older than herself; a little tidy, with a grim old shawl tied
round her waist and shoulders, but bare feet in the snow. Matilda might
have crossed in the crowd without meeting her, but she waited to speak
and give her penny. The girl's face encouraged her.

"Are you not very cold?" Matilda asked.

"No--I don't think of it." The answer seemed to come doubtfully.

"Do you go to Sunday school anywhere?"

The girl sprang from her at this minute to clear the way for some
dainty steppers, where the muddy snow had been flung by the horses'
feet just a moment before; and to hold her hand for the penny, which
was not given. Slowly she came back to Matilda.

"Do most of the people give you something?"

"No," said the girl. "Most of 'em don't."

"Do you go to Sunday school on Sundays?"

"O yes: I go to Mr. Rush's Sunday school, in Forty Second street."

"Why, _I_ go there," said Matilda. "Who's your teacher?"

The girl's face quite changed as she now looked at her; it grew into a
sort of answering sympathy of humanity; there was almost a dawning
smile.

"I remember you," she said; "I didn't at first, but I do now. You were
in the class last Sunday. I am in Mr. Wharncliffe's class."

"Why so do I remember you!" cried Matilda. "You are Sarah?"

The conversation was interrupted again, for the little street-sweeper
was neglecting her duties, and she ran to attend to them. Out and in
among the carriages and horses' feet. Matilda wondered why she did not
get thrown down and trampled upon; but she was skilful and seemed to
have eyes in the back of her head, for she constantly kept just out of
danger. Matilda waited to say a little more to her, for the talk had
become interesting; in vain, the little street-sweeper was too busy,
and the morning was going; Matilda had to attend to her own business
and be home by one o'clock. Sh