"No, it wasn't," said Elfie; "but don't talk about that any more. I want to forget all about it." "Why?" asked Susie. "I like to think how I get my money, 'specially when somebody's kind, like the landlord was to-day. Don't you think it was God put it into his heart to give me fourpence, and not be cross about the rent?" "I suppose it was," assented Elfie; "but I don't want to think about God any more, so don't talk about him." "Don't want to think about God!" repeated Susie. "O Elfie, and you'd begun to say 'our Father,' and liked to hear me talk about the Lord Jesus being a poor man." "Well, I don't want to hear any more about him; and I shan't say 'our Father' any more. He ain't my Father now," said Elfie doggedly. "Why not? O Elfie! And he's been so good to us to-day," said Susie. "Yes, I suppose he is good; and he makes me feel bad, and I never did feel so till to-day, so I'm going to forget him." "O Elfie! And make him feel so sad and sorry about you," said Susie. "Now, don't talk like that, or else I shall cry," said Elfie with a stifled sob. "I don't want you to love me now." "But I can't help loving you—I will love you," said Susie passionately. And instead of pushing her away, Elfie returned her caresses, and the two girls cried for some time, without speaking a word to each other. At length Elfie said, "It makes me glad and sorry too, Susie." "What does?" asked Susie. "That you love me so. I didn't think you would after I hit you this afternoon. I'm so sorry I did it." "Oh, never mind; I know you didn't mean to hurt me," said Susie cheerfully. "I know you loved me all the time." "Yes, I do love you, Susie; but somehow I wish you didn't love me now," said Elfie with a deep sigh. "Why?" asked Susie, in a tone of surprise. "Because it ain't no good loving me; I'm bad. I didn't know I was till to-day; but I am, and you'd better not love me any more. God don't, I know," said Elfie. "Yes, he does," said Susie quickly. "He loves you, Elfie, more than I can. He is—" "There, hold your tongue. I don't want to hear about him," interrupted Elfie. Susie was puzzled, but remained silent for a minute or two, and then asked—"Where have you been to-day, Elfie?" "Oh, lots of places," she answered shortly. "But don't ask about that; tell me what you've been doing." "Working, to be sure," answered Susie. There was nothing to tell beyond this. Her life was summed up in these words, for there was no change in it, save the weekly walk to take her work home. Elfie's, on the contrary, was full of change, amid all its sameness in wandering; for there was constantly something happening, either in the streets or the market; and wherever a crowd collected, Elfie was sure to be; and from the remarks of the bystanders, she learned all that had happened, and was delighted to tell Susie when she returned home, so that her unwillingness to speak of this now was the more remarkable.