bonny face before them, and then a humble, beseeching expression filled them, as if asking pardon for the rash act nearly committed, and pity for the hard fate that prompted it. Polly read the language of these eyes, and answered their mute prayer with a simple eloquence that said more than any words, for she just stooped down and kissed the poor child, with her own eyes full, and lips that trembled with the sympathy she could not tell. Jenny put both arms about her neck, and began to shed the quiet tears that so refresh and comfort heavy hearts when a tender touch unseals the fountain where they lie.
"Everybody is so kind," she sobbed, "and I was so wicked, I don't deserve it."
"Oh, yes, you do; don't think of that, but rest and let us pet you. The old life was too hard for such a little thing as you, and we are going to try and make the new one ever so much easier and happier," said Polly, forgetting everything except that this was a girl like herself, who needed heartening up.
"Do you live here?" asked Jenny, when her tears were wiped away, still clinging to the new-found friend.
"Yes, Miss Mills lets me have a little room up stairs, and there I have my cat and bird, my piano and my posy pots, and live like a queen. You must come up and see me to-morrow if you are able. I'm often lonely, for there are no young people in the house to play with me," answered Polly, smiling hospitably.
"Do you sew?" asked Jenny.
"No, I'm a music teacher, and trot round giving lessons all day."
