ut both arms about her neck, and began to shed
the quiet tears that so refresh and comfort heavy hearts when a tender
touch unseals the fountain where they lie.

"Everybody is so kind," she sobbed, "and I was so wicked, I don't
deserve it."

"Oh, yes, you do; don't think of that, but rest and let us pet you. The
old life was too hard for such a little thing as you, and we are going
to try and make the new one ever so much easier and happier," said
Polly, forgetting everything except that this was a girl like herself,
who needed heartening up.

"Do you live here?" asked Jenny, when her tears were wiped away, still
clinging to the new-found friend.

"Yes, Miss Mills lets me have a little room up stairs, and there I have
my cat and bird, my piano and my posy pots, and live like a queen. You
must come up and see me to-morrow if you are able. I 'm often lonely,
for there are no young people in the house to play with me," answered
Polly, smiling hospitably.

"Do you sew?" asked Jenny.

"No, I 'm a music teacher, and trot round giving lessons all day."

"How beautiful it sounds, and how happy you must be, so strong and
pretty, and able to go round making music all the time," sighed Jenny,
looking with respectful admiration at the plump, firm hand held in both
her thin and feeble ones.

It did sound pleasant even to Polly's ears, and she felt suddenly so
rich, and so contented, that she seemed a different creature from the
silly girl who cried because she could n't go to the party. It passed
through her mind like a flash, the contrast between her life, and that
of the wan creature lying before her, and she felt as if she could not
give enough out of her abundance to this needy little sister, who had
nothing in the wide world but the life just saved to her. That minute
did more for Polly than many sermons, or the wisest books, for it
brought her face to face with bitter truths, showed her the dark side
of life, and seemed to blow away her little vanities, her frivolous
desires, like a wintry wind, that left a wholesome atmosphere behind.
Sitting on the bedside, Polly listened while Jane told the story, which
was so new to her listener, that every word sank deep into her heart,
and never was forgotten.

"Now you must go to sleep. Don't cry nor think, nor do anything but
rest. That will please Miss Mills best. I 'll leave the doors open, and
play you a lullaby that you can't resist. Good night, dear." And with
another