"I never, never thought as mothers wor like that," said Faith; "she must be most desp'rate wicked." "Oh, no, she's not so werry; I ha' seen far worse nor mother." "But to steal the babies!" said Faith. "Bless us, Faith, heaps and heaps on 'em does that. They most times gives the young 'uns back again. They jest watches for the `Hue and Cry' and the rewards put up by the perlice stations, and then they brings 'em back and purtends as they ha' found 'em. Mother tuk all back but one, he--" "Yes," said Faith eagerly. "Well," continued Meg, speaking with a slight shade of hesitation; "that 'ere little 'un--there worn't no reward offered. Mother waited and waited, and I coaxed her ter take him back, but she got h'angered, and she wouldn't--she 'ud never--h'all I could do--take that ere little child back home again." "Oh, Meg! and ha' she got him still?" Meg indulged in a short, rather hard laugh. "Bless yer, Faithy, not a bit o' it; that 'ere little 'un tuk the fever and he died. I tuk on most bitter after he died, as I did care fur him; yer little Roy put me in mind o' his purty ways! but he's h'all right now, he's with Jesus now--it wor arter he died as I went to Sunday-school and larned 'bout Jesus. Little Charlie's safe in the arms of Jesus this long time past now." "Do you think," asked Faith, "as Jesus wot loves the little children, 'ud help us to find our little Roy again?" Meg looked very grave for half a minute, then she said, her face brightening, "That's a good thought, Faithy; we'll jest tell Him all about little Roy." Faith sprang to her feet, "Then let's go to Him at once," she said, "let's find out His address and go to Him; we'll ask Him to lose no time in finding that werry wicked woman who has stole little Roy." "But we can say it all here," said Meg. "I don't know wot h'ever you mean by going to Him; we needn't go a step away from here, we can say it here." "But Jesus ain't here," said Faith. "Well, yes, He is, and He isn't; I don't know how to explain--wot do you mean, Faith?" "I mean," said Faith, "as I thought as Jesus lived somewhere, in London maybe, and that we might go to Him and tell Him 'bout our little Roy. I wor told as He worn't dead--I mean that He did die, but He woke up again. Ef He's alive, why shouldn't He live in the place where the most babies 'ere, Meg?" "Oh, dear!" answered Meg, "ain't you a queer 'un! You're a deal better dressed than me, and you're so clean that there ain't a speck nowhere, and you look as ef you allers had yer fill o' vickles. You h'an't never a rag nowhere, but fur h'all that I never did meet a more h'ignorant gal--where _was_ yer riz, Faith?" "I think 'tis 'cause my mother died," said Faith. "I know as I am very ignorant; I'm ever so sorry."