"Not fine people that's got tables and chairs at home. God wants them in there perhaps, and so he gives the police orders to let 'em in. I know all about it, you see," she added triumphantly. But Susie shook her head. "No, you don't," she said. "God wants us to know and love him—you and me, Elfie." "I know them police that stands at the door, and that's enough for me," said the girl. "You can go if you like. Church, and tables, and chairs, and eating off plates, and sleeping in beds, is all one, I guess; and them that gets used to it can't do without it. But I can, and I shan't run to the police for that." But although Elfie would not go with Susie, she willingly consented to show her the way; for she had not been to a church in this neighbourhood, and only knew the road to take the work backwards and forwards. So, after carefully washing her face and brushing her hair, and making herself as tidy as possible, Susie went out, carrying her prayer-book in her pocket-handkerchief, and trying to fancy that her mother was with her still. Elfie would not come near the church; but after pointing it out, and watching Susie go in, she ran back to play with her companions, wondering all the time what could be going on inside the church to make Susie so anxious to go there. This was her first question when she met her as she came home. "What do you look at—what do you do," she asked, "when you go to church?" "We pray and sing, and hear what the minister says," answered Susie. "What does he say?" asked Elfie. Susie thought for a minute, and then answered, "Well, he reads out of the Bible, and says, 'Our Father.' You know that, don't you?" But Elfie shook her head. "Who is 'Our Father'?" she asked. "God, who lives up in heaven, where mother's gone," answered Susie. "He's your Father, then, I suppose," said Elfie. "Yes, and yours too," said Susie quickly. "No, he ain't; I don't know him," said Elfie, shaking her head with a little sigh. "But he knows you, Elfie—knows you, and loves you, and wants you to love him." But Elfie shook her head persistently. "I don't know nothing about him, and nobody ever loved me," she' said. And to end the conversation, she ran away to finish her game of buttons, while Susie walked quietly home. She ate a slice of dry bread for her dinner, and saved one for Elfie; and then took her mother's Bible out of the little box, and sat down to read a chapter just as she used to do before her mother died. But the sight of the familiar old book upset all her firmness, and she sat down with it in her lap, and burst into tears. She was still crying when Elfie came rushing in to ask if she would not come out and join their play.