"Yes," said Cherry; "I forget exactly, but one thing I know, she was dreadfully ill on Christmas Day--not this last one, nor the one before that, but two years ago--and she died in a few days. Soon after that father got bad; he used to drink afore, but not so much; and then our things went one by one, and at last----" Cherry shuddered. "At last?" questioned Mrs. Seymour. "He got tired of me askin' for food for me and Dickie, and we'd been a long time livin' in that big room where's there's such a lot of 'em, and then he agrees with old Sairy to take Dickie out with her, and let him share the profits; and he was out with 'em for I should say nigh on six months. At last Dickie was took so ill that he couldn't walk another step, and for a long time I thought he'd 'a died; I wished he had." "And was that when you began to know my Meg?" "Yes. Oh, she was awful kind to us. And then we went hoppin', and father and me earned a lot; but he hadn't been home but a little while afore he'd drunk up every bit of it, and then he thinks of sendin' Dickie out ag'in; and then they was that cruel to us both. Look here!" She undid some of her poor little dress, and bared her thin, deformed shoulders. They were scarred with red seams and black and blue lines. "Why did they beat you?" asked Mrs. Seymour, her face turning white at the sight. "'Cause I wouldn't let 'em hurt Dickie, not while I could hold 'em back; but it weren't of no use, they always got the best of me at the end." "Poor little girl," said Mrs. Seymour, stroking Cherry's head tenderly; "poor little motherless girl!" Cherry's eyes looked up gratefully. "Oh, ma'am," she exclaimed earnestly, "if they'll keep Dickie safe from old Sairy I'll do anything for 'em--anything in the world that I can. I can learn things pretty quick--mother used to say so. Do you think as you could teach me anything?" "I think we can, Cherry, if you're a good girl." "I will try to be," she said humbly. "And please don't think, ma'am, as I've took to bad ways, 'cause--" Cherry's voice was choked, and she could say no more. Had the child guessed a certain holding back in Mrs. Seymour's manner. "Why?" she asked gravely. "'Cause," answered Cherry in a low voice, "I've never forgot what mother taught me. She said as I belonged to Jesus. When I thought of that--" "Well?" asked Mrs. Seymour gently. "I tried to please Him," said Cherry, hiding her face in the pillow. Mrs. Seymour bent over her. "Forgive me, little Cherry; I was so afraid--but now I'm not. Look up, dear, and give me a kiss." Cherry put her arms round her neck without a word; and then Mrs. Seymour asked her if she would not like some breakfast soon? Cherry's eyes brightened. "Oh, ma'am," she said, "I've not had anything but a crust for so long that I gave up callin' it breakfast."