"'Tis so awful me havin' wished 'er dead many a time, Mrs. Creak! I thinks of it at nights. And I was so cross and sulky and imperent, and now she be gone. And oh! Mrs. Creak, where is she?" Mrs. Creak was silent. Then she said softly— "You gave her a message, dearie. Her last thoughts were about God and His love. She may have put up a prayer for mercy. She were very near it from the hymn you tells me she quoted— "'Oh for . . . a heart that's sprinkled with the blood So freely shed for me.' "It may have set her thinkin' and then prayin', dearie. 'Tis very remarkable she should have minded it just then. But oh! Peggy, my girl, never you leave it to make your peace with God till He calls you! He do call so terrible sudden sometimes." Peggy nodded soberly. "I ain't goin' to say another cross word to no one all the days o' my life 'm, for fear they should die sudden 'fore I could make it up with 'em." "That's a very grand resolve," said Mrs. Creak, "but it's too big a one to keep, Peggy, if ye don't ask the Lord's help." "The Lord helpin' me—Amen," finished Peggy fervently. Then, after a big sigh or two, she came to business. "Please 'm, Mrs. Jones wants me to stay and mind h'Arthur, and she'll give me my vittles and clothes, but I wants to go to service." "I know you do, dearie, but 'tis difficult for you at present." "Oh, please 'm, do you think God is answerin' my prayer? I've been arskin' Him fearful hard to let me go to service, but I do hope I haven't been and made aunt die." She stopped, aghast at the thought. But good little Mrs. Creak reassured her. "God has our lives in His hand, and no others have, Peggy. He took your aunt away, but I doubt if it will be easy even now for you to get into real good service." "Why?" "There be your clothes, child. You have none fit to wear, and it takes a good sum to get things together. And then you have no trainin' at all. If you could go to a trainin' 'ome now." "That I never will!" said Peggy stoutly. "I won't go to the 'Ouse or any such institootion. I'll manage 'm. I know a good many girls in places, an' they 'll 'elp me." Peggy did not let the grass grow under her feet. She followed her aunt's funeral in company with three other women who took pity on her. And then, when she had come back and packed up her belongings, she gave the key of her room to the landlord and went to live with Mrs. Jones. The very next day she was haunting Nelson Street, and eagerly talking to the red-haired girl at No. 6. "I'm a-goin' into a place as soon as I can find one," she assured her importantly; "but I don't want to live in this street." "That's a pity," said the red-haired girl good-naturedly, "for No. 14 is a-goin' to be married, and she's leavin', and you might a-tried there." Peggy's face lit up with a splendid inspiration. "Is that No. 14 a-cleanin' her doorstep?" she asked breathlessly. She was assured it was. Off she marched, and opened fire at once.