"Look yere, my lass," she said suddenly, "ef I may come in and rest anywhere in the house wid this little sickly young 'un, I don't mind how long it be. He's werry sick I'm feared, and I'm main terrified to have him out in this east wind. May we wait inside, my little maid?" The little servant-girl had to refuse, however, though she did so with tears in her eyes. She was left in sole charge of the house. It was more than her place was worth to let any one in while master and missis were at church! Hannah did not abuse her, but she turned away, with a feeling as though her feet were weighted with lead. What should she do with little Roy? she dare not keep him for a whole hour in the cold, cold street. Ah! there was one refuge, and it was close--a public-house shed its cheerful light upon the scene. There, in a place so warm and snug both she and the child might wait in shelter, in warmth and safety, and she had sixpence in her pocket, and she might spend twopence in gin. If little Roy were spared to her she meant never to drink again, but to-night she must have one little dram, for her heart was very low. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. Meg, after her interview with Warden, went straight bade to what home she possessed. Her violent anger, her passion of tears, had left behind them a kind of calm--nay more, a very deep calm; it was as though a thundercloud had rolled across a very blue sky, leaving it when past bluer and brighter than before. Meg, though tired in body and a little faint, for she had eaten no food that day, felt as though she was being carried home in the arms of Jesus. She looked up at the sky and behind all its London gloom and fog she seemed to see the smile of Jesus shining through directly upon her. She ran down the ladder to her cellar with almost gay steps, and she found Faith there, still very depressed and miserable. She told her of her interview with her father, by no means relating the whole scene, but simply that part which concerned little Roy. Faith listened and shook her head more dismally than ever. "I seen mother in a dream last night," she said; "she come close to me and axed me what I had done wid Roy. I ought never to have left my little Roy wot mother give me to mind when she was dying; it's all my fault as little Roy is lost." "Why that's som'ut like wot yer father said," answered Meg. "He said as he wor a hard man, and it wor his fault. It seems to me that wot you ought both to do is to get down on yer bended knees and pray most bitter hard to Jesus to furgive yer; when He ha' furgiven yer He'll let you have little Roy back again."