George couldn't weep at this last blow. He had not shed a tear since his mother's death. The agony in his heart was therefore all the more unbearable. He clenched his hands in pain. Hours passed, the bitterest he had ever spent. Whatever suffering the future held for him he never experienced such anguish again. At last he raised his head. His face was white, his eyes were heavy and dull. "Everything is against me," he moaned. "My mother's dead; my father, who had become so kind, taken and thrown into gaol. Why should I suffer hunger and cold and disgrace and beggary? Other boys, through no merit of theirs, are born rich. Why wasn't I a lord's son instead of a waif of the streets? Why should my mother die of neglect, when others have all they need? Oh! I'll ask God to kill me; death ain't so very terrible. I've seen lots of boys of my age fished out of the river. It's only a few moments' pain, and Jesus wouldn't be 'ard on a little chap what's ben drove to it." The geranium trembled with fear as she heard the boy's wild words. She spread out her blossoms and endeavoured to attract his attention. Suddenly the garret was brilliantly illuminated. The sunbeam had glided down his golden ladder, and stood on the window sill. George was amazed. He must be dreaming! What was this beautiful tiny creature enveloped in a haze of glory? "The angels are sad when you despair, little boy. Gather your energies. Receive your prize! You are ungrateful to the flower which has grown into so beautiful a plant for your sake. You are ungrateful to your God thus to abandon hope when you possess one of His greatest gifts." "What gift?" "Youth, a magic watchword that can open the enchanted gates in the land of genius." "Genius?" said the boy wonderingly. "I have never heard of it." "Live your life. Lose not a moment. At your years time flies. Be a great and a good man. Persevere. Out of the mire of this wilderness a golden flower shall rear its head, and grow in beauty day by day. It may even reach the Sun-lands." III. The schoolroom looked like a little paradise to the poor waifs assembled there. Many flags hung from the roof, and festoons of evergreens decorated the walls. A raised platform was covered with scarlet cloth. On this were many well-dressed ladies, the seat of honour being filled by Lord Eltonville, who had consented to distribute the prizes. The geraniums were displayed around the room. Some amongst them were frail and sickly looking,--they had not been able to thrive in their squalid and sunless abodes,--others appeared more promising, and a few amongst the number had grown strong and handsome. [Illustration] Of the four hundred plant cuttings thirty alone had not been returned for competition. At one side of the platform was a table upon which the prizes were arranged. They consisted of workboxes, paints, tops, knives, drums, books, blotters, aprons, pencils, etc.