Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. [Illustration: "I SHOULD SAY YOUR WORK WAS TONGUE-WAGGING," SAID ANDY.] HAREBELL'S FRIEND BY AMY LE FEUVRE AUTHOR OF "A LITTLE LISTENER," "LADDIE'S CHOICE," "PROBABLE SONS," ETC., ETC. LONDON: THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 4 BOUVERIE ST. AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. NOT WANTED II. FIRST DAYS III. CHRYSOPRASUS IV. TOM V. AN ACCIDENT VI. AN ADVENTUROUS DAY VII. A LETTER TO TOM VIII. A NEW UNCLE IX. IN DISGRACE X. A LITTLE RUNAWAY XI. TOM'S LAST EFFORT HAREBELL'S FRIEND CHAPTER I NOT WANTED SHE stood watching the crowd on the pier; a slim upright little figure, in a shabby waterproof, and a woollen cap crammed down on her head, and hiding the soft silky curls underneath it. Her small face with its clear pallor, dark speaking eyes, and sensitive lips, struck more than one observer with peculiar interest. "An intelligent child that," remarked the ship's doctor, as he lounged over the bulwarks, waiting for the gangway to connect them with the shore; "but it's a type that is bound to suffer—too much feeling!" His companion—a pretty woman of uncertain age—gazed at the small girl reflectively. "She will be one of the many lonely unattached women, I suppose. No parents or brothers and sisters, I hear; being brought home by the Commissioner of the district in which her parents died. He seems rather in a quandary about her, for there is a doubt as to whether any relatives will turn up. Poor mite! I suppose a school or orphanage will be her fate." Their voices reached the child's ears. She did not turn her head, but big tears rose to her eyes. Then she brushed them away with the back of her hand. Another voice, and a hand on her shoulder, made her glance up, and in an instant her face was glowing and radiant with delight. "Well, little Harebell, we're home at last! Now for a scrimmage at the Customs, and then we'll dine together at some hotel! We won't think about to-morrow, will we? I don't fancy anybody on the pier belongs to you, do you think so?" The big Commissioner—six foot in his stockings—glanced down at his protégée with laughing eyes; but there was a big pity at the bottom of his heart for her future. She slipped her hand into his with great content. "We'll have a beautiful evening," she said in clear soft tones. "And do you think we might have ice-pudding to-night?" "We'll have the best of everything! A perfect feast! Now then—come along!"