ou mean."

"Well--if she could," said I.

"No doubt she would; but soon after I left my old lodging the landlord
fled the country, and other people came to the house, who were troubled
by my sending so often to inquire. Then my money was all expended, and
I had to quit my second lodging, and came here, which is far, far from
the old lodging, and now I have no one to send."

"Have you any friends in London?" I asked.

"No. We had come from York to try to find teaching for my darling, for
we could get none in our native town, and we had not been long enough in
London to make new friends when--when--she went away. My dear Ann and
Willie, her mother and father, died last year, and now we have no near
relations in the world."

"Shall I read to you, granny?" said I, feeling that no words of mine
could do much to comfort one in so sad a case.

She readily assented. I was in the habit of reading and praying with
her during these visits. I turned, without any definite intention of
doing so, to the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest." I cannot tell why, but I paused here
instead of reading on, or commenting on the words.

The old woman looked earnestly at me.

"These words," she said, "have been in my mind all yesterday and the day
before. I have been greatly comforted by them, because `He is faithful
who has promised.' Pray over them, John; don't read any more."

I knelt by the poor woman's chair; she could not kneel with me in body,
though she did in spirit, I doubt not. I had quite forgotten Slidder,
but, on rising, observed that he had followed my example and gone down
on his knees.

"Were you praying with us, Slidder?" I asked, after we left Mrs
Willis, and were walking up the alley, followed by Dumps.

"Dun know, sir; I've never heard nor seen nuffin' o' this sort before.
In coorse I've heard the missionaries sometimes, a-hollerin' about the
streets, but I never worrited myself about _them_. I say, doctor,
that's a rum go about that gal Edie--ain't it? I've quite took a fancy
to that gal, now, though I ain't seen her. D'ye think she's bin
drownded?"

"I scarce know what to think. Her disappearance so suddenly does seem
very strange. I fear, I fear much that--however, it's of no use
guessing. I shall at once set about making inquiries."

"Ha! so shall I," said the little waif, with a look of determination on
his small face that amused me gre