misery. She walked to the end of the street and stood there. On leaving home she had forgotten her umbrella, and now it was raining heavily again. Of a sudden her need became powerful enough to overcome all obstacles; she knew that she must see Jane Snowdon, that she could not go home till she had done so. Jane was the only friend she had; the only creature who would speak the kind of words to her for which she longed.
Again the knocker fell, and again Mrs. Byass appeared.
“What do you want? I’ve got nothing for you,” she cried impatiently.
“I want to see Miss Snowdon, please, mum,—Miss Snowdon, please”
“Miss Snowdon? Then why didn’t you say so? Step inside.”
A few moments and Jane came running downstairs.
“Pennyloaf!”
Ah! that was the voice that did good. How it comforted and blessed, after the hospital, and the miserable room in which the dead child was left lying, and the rainy street!
