Little Harry quickly discovered that it was safer to play in the street when Aunt Jane was alone, but that there was no need for fear if Uncle Jim or Uncle Tom were at home. He was a cheerful little soul too, and began to enjoy such pleasures as came into his new life and to forget the old. Saturday, Sunday and Monday were his joy-days, for on Saturday Uncle Tom always came and took him out for some excursion or treat, or if it were wet, to his own home. On Sunday Uncle Jim sent him to a Mission Sunday School, morning and afternoon, and sometimes, greatest treat of all, in the evening Uncle Jim would take him to the Mission Service. That Mission Service had a home-like feeling to little Harry, for it reminded him of the Sailor's Rest where he had so often gone with his mother at Whitecliff, before her cough got worse. He loved the singing there, and at Sunday School. He had a voice like a little bird, sweet and true and clear, and sometimes when Aunt Jane was out on Sunday evening, Uncle Jim would let him sing to him, and even Aunt Jane would let him sing the baby to sleep of a night. There was one hymn that he learned at Sunday School that he was never tired of singing. It had a chorus, and he always fancied that it was the baby's favourite, too-- I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me; I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves even me. On Mondays Harry went to the Mixham Nursery. Harry thought it a charming place. There were no big rough boys or girls--only little people like himself, and the tables were little and the seats were little, and there were toys, and somebody besides himself to make a grand play and pretend to be soldiers, or engine-drivers or horses. There was a kind-faced woman there, who put pretty clean pinafores on all the children when they came in the morning, and there was always something nice for dinner. There was a room for the babies upstairs, which Harry considered a most suitable arrangement, and he saw his baby cousin carried up there with great content. He wished Aunt Jane would go out washing every day till Saturday! Dinner-time was twelve o'clock, and Harry, having learned to tell the time, and having taken a great fancy to the seat at the end of the long, low table, always took his place at least five minutes before twelve, to ensure its possession, and such is the force of example and the love of the best available seat, that on Mondays there was no need for the matron to say, "Come to dinner, children," for a row of little eager faces lined the table, and a row of little hands were folded reverently upon it, waiting for her to ask a blessing. And after dinner came the only drawback which Harry found in the Nursery life. He and all the other children had to take a good long nap.