loose sand up
in a heap, beyond the reach of the present ordinary tides.

"Have you filled both the baskets?" asked the little girl, as she waded
through the loose dry sand to where the boy was sitting.

"No, that I ain't," answered Dick, "mother said you could pick the
samphire to-day."

"Yes, but you said you'd help me," said the girl, walking steadily
across the sand to the salt-marsh beyond. Here the samphire grew in
abundance, and the little girl set to work to fill the two large baskets
that stood near.

"You might come and help, Dick," she called, hardly repressing a sob as
she spoke.

"Look here, I'll help if you'll just come and make some more of them
letters. You said you would, you know," added the boy, still piling up
the sand.

"Oh, Dick, you know I can't; you know I've forgot a'most everything
since I've been here;" and this time the little girl fairly burst into
tears, and sat down beside the half-filled baskets, and sobbed as though
her heart would break.

The boy's heart was touched at the sight of her distress, and he ran
across to comfort her.

"Don't cry, Tiny; I'll help yer, and then we'll try agin at the letters.
I know three--A B C: you'll soon find out about the others, and make 'em
in the sand for me."

But Tiny shook her head. "I'd know 'em if I had a book," she said,
sadly; "ain't it a pity daddy ain't got one?"

"What 'ud be the good of books to dad?" said Dick. "Harry Hayes has got
some, I know; but then he goes to school, and knows all about 'em.
There, let's forget we see him with that book yesterday, for it ain't no
good for us to think about it," concluded Dick; for he did not like to
see Tiny's tears, and the easiest way of banishing them was to forget
the original cause, he thought. But the little girl was not of the same
opinion. She shook her head sadly as she said--

"I've forgot a'most everything my mother told me."

"Oh, that you ain't," contradicted the boy, "You never forget to say
your prayers before you go to bed. I wonder you ain't forgot that; I
should, I know."

"How could you, Dick, if you knew God was waiting to hear you?" said
Tiny, lifting her serious blue eyes to his face.

"Then why ain't He waiting to hear me?" asked Dick.

The question seemed to puzzle the little girl for a minute or two; but
at length she said--

"He is, Dick, I think; I'm a'most sure He's waiting for yer to begin."

"Then He's waited a good while," said Dick, bluntly; and he