al,
but I've got such a hat! I bought it in Clare Market, with red, blue,
and yaller flowers in it--so smart!"

"Oh, never mind your clothes," said Pollie, somewhat doubtful as to the
effect such a hat would have on the teachers and pupils; "come as you
are, only clean and tidy--that is all they want."

For some time they walked on in silence, but their thoughts must have
been on the same subject, for suddenly Sally asked--

"What do you do at Sunday-school?"

"We read the Bible, repeat our texts and hymns. Shall I say the one I am
learning for next Sunday to you?"

"Well, I should like to hear it," was the reply. "Suppose we go and sit
on Waterloo Bridge--it's nice and quiet there--I'll pay the toll."

Pollie, however, would not consent to her friend's extravagance on her
behalf, so the two children paid each their halfpenny and passed on to
the Bridge.

It was a lovely evening, and though April, yet it was not too cold, so
they seated themselves in one of the recesses, and for a time were
amused by watching the boats on the river, chatting merrily, as only
children can.

"Now, then, tell me yer pretty hymn," said Sally, when at last they had
exhausted their stock of fun, and putting her arm around her little
friend's neck, they cuddled up lovingly together--the gentle little
Pollie, and sturdy, rugged Sally. Then the child repeated to her
listening companion--

"Abide with me! fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens;
Lord, with me abide," &c.

She went on unto the end, the bigger girl listening the while with
almost breathless eagerness, and when it was finished they both remained
silent. Evidently those beautiful verses had struck a chord hitherto
mute in the heart of the poor untaught London waif.

"Oh, but that's fine!" she murmured at last in hushed tones. "Tell me
something else, Pollie."

However, just at that moment the attention of the children was arrested
by a young woman who came and sat down in the recess opposite them. They
had both noticed her pass and repass several times, but as they were
almost hidden by the stone coping of the bridge, she had not observed
them.

With wild gestures she threw herself upon the stone seat, and imagining
she was alone, burst into piteous moans, alternately clasping her hands
tightly together, as though in pain, then hiding her pale but lovely
face, which showed traces of agony; swaying backwards and forwards, but
with ever the same ceaseless