SAVED BY LOVE.
SUSIE could not understand the alteration in Elfie, but altered she certainly was. Sometimes she would stay away for two or three days together, and then come home and be as affectionate as ever, and give Susie all the money she had been able to get; but she would never tell her how she got it or where she had been. Then, after staying about in the same neighbourhood, she would go off no one knew where, leaving Susie to lie listening for her to come home at night, and to feel very dull and lonely by herself.
Poor Susie had other anxieties to trouble her, too, besides those she suffered on Elfie's account. Work was becoming scarce; and soon after the winter set in, she was told she had better look out for something else to do, as they could not give her the sewing much longer.
"What shall I do—what can I do?" said Susie, when she told Elfie of this.
"I must get some more money," said Elfie. "I daresay I can get enough for both of us, and then you need not do this work."
"But can't I help you?" asked Susie. "I shouldn't like you to do everything."
"You can't help me get money," said Elfie evasively.
"Oh, I won't mind going into the market with you, if you'll ask the men to let me mind the baskets as well as you," said Susie.
Elfie laughed. "You couldn't," she said.
"Oh yes, I could—I would," added Susie. "I'd do anything to earn some money."
"Could you fight the boys if they came to take the things?" asked Elfie.
Susie shook her head, and looked greatly disappointed. "Oh, what can I do?" she said. "This is the last lot of shirts I shall have to make, and I must do something to earn some money."
Elfie thought for a minute or two of all the means she had tried to earn money, but there was only one in which Susie was likely to succeed.
"You might clean doorsteps," she said slowly.
"Oh yes; mother taught me how to clean the hearth and scrub the floor," said Susie quickly.
"Can you clean knives and forks as well?" asked Elfie.
Susie nodded. "I know how to do all sorts of cleaning," she said.
"I don't," said Elfie; "I can just clean steps. And so when the people asked me to clean the knives and forks, and I couldn't, they wouldn't let me do the steps. But if you can do all sorts of work, you can soon get some. I'll show you how to manage."
Elfie kept her word. As soon as the last bundle of shirts was carried home, and before the money was expended, the two girls went out together in search of some employment for Susie.
A short distance from Fisher's Lane there was a respectable neighbourhood, where the people seemed to pride themselves on the neatness of their doorsteps, but where very few could afford to keep servants to clean them. Here Elfie had often earned a few pence, and might have gained more, if she could have done more than clean the steps. For occasionally she had been asked to clean knives and forks, and windows. There she brought Susie, and boldly knocked at a door, asking if they wanted the steps cleaned.
"Not to-day," answered the woman; "and besides, the girl who cleans my steps must do the knives and forks as well."
"She can clean knives and all sorts of things," said Elfie, pushing Susie forward.
The woman looked at her. "Have you learned to scrub?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," answered Susie quietly.
"Well, then, you may come to me to-morrow and I'll give you something to do."
Susie was delighted, and Elfie looked pleased. "You'll be sure to get on now," she said complacently.
"Do you clean all these steps?" asked Susie, looking down the neat quiet street.
Elfie laughed. "I don't clean steps now, I tell you," she said, rather sharply.
"Why not?" asked Susie; "Do you get so many baskets to mind now?" she asked.
"I don't mind baskets either," said Elfie fiercely. "I'm just street rubbish—just what people said I was long ago; and I don't care a bit. No, I don't care; and I won't care," she added, "though you do talk about that school, and try to coax me to go with you."
Susie looked at her angry face in silent surprise. What could have provoked this outbreak she could not tell, for she had not ventured to mention the Ragged School to her for some weeks past, although she had not given up all hope of persuading her to go with her.
"Elfie, what's the matter—what do you mean?" she asked.
Elfie looked somewhat subdued. "Why, you're not to bother me about what I do to get the money," she said, rather more quietly. "I cleaned steps as long as I could, but I never had anybody to teach me to do things like you had; and then the people in the market called me a thief, and I couldn't get the baskets to mind."
"Never mind, Elfie; I know you ain't a thief, and I love you," said Susie, in a gentle, soothing voice.
But Elfie shrunk away from the proffered caress. "I'm bad, I tell you, and don't want you to love me."
"Oh, but I will love you, even if you are bad," said Susie with a smile.
The altercation ended, as usual, in both girls promising they would never leave each other; but a feeling of uneasiness was left in Susie's mind, and she could not get rid of the wish to know more about the way in which Elfie spent her time now. She loved her companion very dearly, in spite of her strange behaviour sometimes, and she wished Elfie would tell her how she got the money she brought home. It was often silver now, as well as pence; but the possession of it never seemed to give her any pleasure, and she was sure to be fierce and angry if she asked where it came from, and would refuse to eat anything that was bought with it!
This was very puzzling to Susie, and the more she thought about it, the more unhappy did she become. And yet she was afraid to tell Elfie of her unhappiness, for fear she should put her oft repeated threat into execution, and never come home any more.
She was earning a little money still herself, but she could not depend upon earning a regular amount as when she did the sewing; for people did not want their steps cleaned every day. She managed to give satisfaction in this new work, and the first to employ her, recommended her to several neighbours; but it was only one or two days a week that she was wanted, and the rest of her time passed very slowly if Elfie did not come home all day.
One morning Susie thought she would walk a little further, and venture to inquire in another direction if a girl was wanted to do house work. She had heard that girls sometimes could get a place to go to every morning, and have part of their meals each day. Now, if she could do this it would be so much pleasanter, and she would not mind how hard she had to work; and she made up her mind to inquire for such a place as this before she left home.
Which way to turn she did not know, and she stood at the top of Fisher's Lane looking up and down the road debating this point, until at length she lifted her heart in silent prayer to God to guide her aright. Then she walked cheerfully on down the road for some distance, until she came to some quiet side streets, and at the corner of one of these, she went into a grocer shop, and asked if they knew any one who wanted a girl.
The man asked her how old she was, and what work she could do; and then told her his wife wanted some one to help her with the work in the morning, and asked her to step into the back parlour and speak to her. Susie's heart beat high with hope as she went into the room, while the grocer called his wife. Surely God had directed her steps, that she should hear of what she wanted so soon!
The grocer's wife asked Susie a good many questions, but seemed to be satisfied with her answers. She could not, however, quite decide about taking her, she said; she must talk to her husband first: she did not know what he would say about taking her without a character, and from such a bad place as Fisher's Lane, too, and so she must come again the next morning.
Susie promised to do so, hoping the answer would be favourable, for she thought she should be very comfortable working under such a kind mistress; and then the wages offered—eighteen-pence a week and her breakfast and dinner—seemed to promise almost riches. Her heart was light although it trembled with anxious expectation as she went through the shop again.
Just as she reached the street she noticed there was a little commotion lower down—a group of boys and girls, and a policeman half dragging, half carrying somebody along. Susie's heart almost stood still as she caught sight of the little ragged culprit, and she could only totter forward a few steps past the grocer, who had stepped out on to the pavement, when she became sure it was Elfie in the policeman's hands! "O Elfie, Elfie I what is it; what is the matter?" said Susie, darting forward.
At the sound of her voice Elfie ceased her struggles. "Go away, Susie," she muttered hoarsely, staring at her wildly.
"No, no, I can't go away," said Susie, trying to catch hold of her frock. "Tell me what it is, Elfie."
"No need to ask what it is," laughed two or three boys: "she's a regular little thief, she is; but she's caught at last, and serve her right."
Elfie looked defiant, and renewed her kicking and struggling; but Susie burst into tears. "Oh, don't take her away," she sobbed, appealing to the policeman; "oh, please let her come home with me, and she'll never do it any more."
"Home with you!" said the man roughly. "Then you're one of the Fisher Lane thieves too, I suppose?"
Susie's pale face flushed and a look of shame stole over it; but still she did not attempt to leave Elfie's side, although she knew all that crowd of boys and girls were staring at her and calling her a thief as well as Elfie.
"Why don't you go away, Susie? I don't want you; I never want to see you any more," said Elfie, in a hard, defiant tone.
But Susie did not go away. They had got into the broad open road now, and everybody turned to look at them—looks that seemed to crush poor Susie and make her heart almost stand still with horror and anguish; but still she kept on walking in the centre of the little crowd.
"If Elfie has been stealing, you must take me up too," she said to the policeman, "for I had part of the money."
"I daresay you did. There's a nice lot of thieves round in Fisher's Lane, I know," said the man.
And as the gates of the police station were reached, he took good care that they should close on Susie too.
She had no wish to escape, although she trembled as they entered a room where another man asked their names and where they lived.
While this was being done, the policeman who had brought them, whispered to one of the others, and then they were taken to a dark room and locked up. Elfie screamed with terror as the door closed, and they were left standing there in the cold, dark room, with only the rift of daylight that struggled through the grating high up in the wall. Susie shuddered, but she was not so frightened as Elfie, who fell sobbing on her neck.
Susie clasped her arms round her. "What is it, Elfie? What have you done?" asked Susie in a whisper.
"Just what they said. I've done it many a time," sobbed Elfie; "but I didn't do it to-day, for I saw somebody coming, and put the boots down."
"O Elfie! You've been stealing," said Susie sadly.
Elfie tried to twist herself away from Susie. "Why don't you say you hate me? I know you do," she said.
"No, I don't, Elfie, or else I shouldn't have come to prison with you," said Susie, holding her more tightly in her arms.
Elfie yielded to the loving embrace and sobbed again. "That's the worst of it," she said. "I shouldn't care so much for what the policemen could do to me, if you didn't know about it."
"But God would know, if I did not," said Susie, in a gentle whisper.
Elfie shuddered. "Does God know everything?" she said.
"Yes; everything we say and do," answered Susie. "He knows how many times you stole things, although you may forget."
"Well, I don't care," said Elfie defiantly. "He don't love me."
"O Elfie, he does; and it makes him sorry, and angry too, when we do anything that is wrong;" and Susie burst into tears.
"Don't cry, don't cry, Susie, and I'll never do it any more. I'll try and get some honest work, though it is so hard," said Elfie, and her tears broke out afresh. The two sat down together on the hard, cold floor, and with their arms round each other's necks, Elfie promised never to steal again, if Susie would leave off crying and love her still. "I will try to be honest, and mind the baskets, and clean steps," she sobbed. "But they called me a thief when I wasn't; and then when we wanted that twopence for the rent, and I couldn't get it any other way, I thought I'd steal it, only you shouldn't know."
"O Elfie, did you steal that sixpence?" asked Susie.
Elfie sobbed. "I stole some things and sold 'em to get that," she said; "that was the first time since I'd known you," she added.
"Did you steal before?" asked Susie.
"Yes, sometimes, when I was very hungry. And they knew it at the Ragged School; that was why I wouldn't go with you," said Elfie, who seemed determined to make a full confession now.
"What did you steal?" asked Susie.
"All sorts of things—anything I could see in shops and run away with. I never felt bad about it before; but when I took the things to get that sixpence for the rent, I felt I was wicked, and God seemed to be looking at me all the time, though I wanted to forget all about him."
"Yes, God was looking at you," said Susie; "and he was sorry about you too—more sorry than I can be, because he loves you more than I do."
"More than you do!" repeated Elfie. "He can't, for you've come to prison with me, though all the people were looking at you and calling you a thief."
"Yes, he has," said Susie. "Don't you remember I told you about the Lord Jesus being God as well as man? Well, he came down from heaven to die for our sins—to save us just because we had all been doing such wicked things as stealing, and telling lies, and forgetting him. But to do this he had to suffer a dreadful, cruel death. And he wasn't compelled to do it either, for he did not deserve it; it was us who deserved it, but he loved us so much that he took our punishment instead."
"But he won't love me now," said Elfie. "It's no good telling me about this now."
"Yes, it is. Elfie, if you will only ask him to help you to be honest in future," said Susie.
"But I've been stealing—I've done such lots of bad things," said Elfie.
"But Jesus will forgive them all, if you ask him," said Susie quickly. "He loves you still, Elfie; though you've been trying to forget him, he hasn't forgot you. He wants you to believe in his love and love him too."
"O Susie, are you sure about it? Are you sure Jesus will love me as much as you do?" asked Elfie.
"He loves you a great deal more than I do. That's why God wishes us to love each other, that we may understand his love," said Susie. "Mother used to say we could never understand God's love, if it wasn't for having father and mother or brothers and sisters to love us."
"I never had a father and mother to love me," said Elfie. "I never had anybody but you, Susie."
"Never mind; I'll be your sister, and love you," said Susie.
"And then, perhaps, by-and-by I shall understand about God's love," whispered Elfie, as she laid her head Susie's shoulder.
WILL SHE CONQUER?
AFTER Elfie and Susie had been kept some hours in the dull, gloomy prison cell, a policeman came and took them into another part of the building, where a magistrate was sitting, and the policeman stated why Elfie had been taken up. He had not seen her take the boots himself, however, and the man to whom they belonged said he did not wish to send the child to prison; and so the magistrate, warning her that if ever she was taken up again, she would not get off so easily, let her go. Against Susie there was no charge, and so the two were allowed to leave together, the policeman telling them never to steal any more, or they would be sent to prison for a month.
"Susie never did steal," said Elfie, indignantly turning round upon the man as she spoke.
"Hush, Elfie, never mind," whispered Susie, who was anxious to get away now.
"But I shall mind. You never did steal in your life, and it's a shame to say you did," retorted Elfie.
"But don't you see I was with you, and so I mustn't mind what they say," replied Susie.
Elfie looked at her in silence for a minute or two, and when they had got out into the street, she burst into tears. "O Susie, you don't deserve to be called a thief," she sobbed.
Susie tried to soothe her, but explained that she was afraid people would think her one, if they remained together, and she did not alter.
"Oh, I will, I will," said Elfie; "I can't bear to think of you loving me, and God loving me, and being so wicked all the while. Susie, ask him to forgive me, and let me say 'our Father' when we go home," she added.
As soon as they reached their room, they went in and shut the door, and kneeled down and said the Lord's Prayer together; and then Susie prayed in simple words that God would forgive Elfie for the sake of Jesus Christ, and help her by his Holy Spirit to lead a new life—to be honest and truthful, and make them both love each other, and be patient, and gentle, and kind.
Elfie was still crying when Susie got up from her knees, and she did not lift her head for some time—not until the fire was blazing under the tea-kettle and Susie had begun to get the tea ready.
"Shall we go to school to-night?" asked Susie a little timidly, when Elfie drew near the table.
"To-night ain't Sunday," said Elfie.
"No; but they have school to-night, and it would help us both to learn a little more," said Susie in the same gentle tone.
"I don't know nothing," said Elfie with a sigh. Only a day or two before, she had told Susie she did not want to learn any more, and would not go to school.
"You'd like to learn to read, wouldn't you, Elfie?" said Susie; "and it'll be nice to go to school of a night, I think."
"Yes, I'll go," said Elfie; "they'll know me there, but you won't let 'em turn you agin' me, will you?" she added.
"They won't try, Elfie, when they know you're wanting to be a different girl," said Susie. "Come and have some tea now," she added, "and I'll tell you how I came to be in the street where you was took up."
Elfie had forgotten to ask about this in the fright and excitement. "How did you get there?" she asked now.
Susie thought for a minute or two, and then she said, "I think God sent me, Elfie."
"Perhaps he did," said Elfie, with drooping head, "for I'd made up my mind never to come back to you any more when the policeman took me. I thought it was all up then, and I might as well forget all you'd told me, for it only made me feel bad and miserable."
"Then God sent me to bring you home, Elfie; and I've got a place too, I think," said Susie joyfully.
"Got a place!" repeated Elfie.
"Yes; I'm to go every morning, and do all sorts of work, and learn to be a proper servant," said Susie.
"But you'll come back every night?" said Elfie.
"Oh yes, I shall come back every night," replied Susie. "I shouldn't like to leave you now."
"No, don't leave me," whispered Elfie. "I do want to love God, but I shall forget all about him if you go away, Susie."
"But you could go to school and learn about him there," said her companion.
"Yes, they'd teach about him, and be kind, I know, but it ain't like loving you," said Elfie. "I can believe about God's love now a little because of yours, but I never had any love before, and I don't want you to go away."
"And I don't want to go away," said Susie. "I mean to earn a lot of money. I shall get eighteen-pence for going out every morning; and then of an afternoon I can clean steps, and knives, and forks, at the other places."
"And I'll get some steps to do, and mind the baskets again," said Elfie.
"Oh yes, do; God will help you, I know," said Susie.
And her heart beat high with hope as she showed Elfie how to wash cups and saucers; for of this necessary accomplishment, Elfie was quite ignorant.
After these had been put away, and their faces washed, they set off for school; Elfie feeling rather shy at going there again, and Susie quite exultant at the thought of taking her.
"Elfleda! Have you come back again?" said the teacher in some surprise, when Elfie paused before the desk.
It was the first time Susie had ever heard Elfie's proper name, and she hardly knew who was addressed, until she heard her companion say, "Please, I'd like to come back, if you'll let me come with Susie."
The teacher glanced at Susie, wondering whether she would be as troublesome.
"Have you been here to school before?" she asked.
"Not on a week-day, ma'am, but I come on Sundays," said Susie.
"Well, you must try to come regularly, on week-day as well as on Sunday," said the teacher, looking at Susie. It was quite useless to speak to Elfie, she thought; she had tried her so many times before, and she did not expect she would come to school above once a week.
It was a little disappointment to Elfie that Susie was placed in a different class; but Susie whispered that she would soon be able to read, if she only tried to learn, and then they could be together. And with this hope in view, Elfie began that very evening, bending all her energies to master the difficulties of the alphabet—a task she had never even tried to conquer before, although she had had the book before her a good many times.
No one who had known Elfie, and the disturbance she made in the school a short time back, could fail to notice the difference in her now. And a few of her companions teased her about it, calling her a "little saint," and various other names, which Elfie did not take very quietly at first, and which would have led to a fight as soon as they got outside again, if Susie had not interfered. Poor Elfie had a great deal to learn. She could not understand at all, that getting into a passion was almost as bad as being dishonest; and she was half inclined to be cross with Susie for interfering.
But by degrees she grew more calm, as she listened to the story of Jesus' life of patient suffering; and before she went to sleep that night she said, "O Susie, I wish I could be like Jesus!"
"We must try to be like him," said Susie; "it's hard work sometimes, and we don't seem to get on a bit, but mother said we must never give up trying."
"You're trying, I know," said Elfie; "and I'll try too. I'll begin to-morrow."
"I think you have begun, Elfie," said Susie, kissing her; "and we'll help each other to keep on trying."
The next morning both girls were up early—Elfie to go to the market in search of any odd job she could get; and Susie to the grocer's, to know when she should begin her work there, for she made sure she should go.
She had not given a thought to the possibility of the man seeing her with Elfie and the policeman, and thinking them both alike dishonest. She had not seen him, and had forgotten all about going there in the excitement caused by Elfie's arrest; and so she started off without the least fear in her mind, but that she should be taken on trial at least.
When she reached the shop, the man said, "What do you want?" And did not seem to recognize her at first.
But when he lifted his head and saw who it was, he added, "You've come to see what you can pick up, I suppose."
"No, sir," answered Susie meekly; "the lady said I was to come to-day about the place."
"And do you think we'd have you?" asked the grocer in astonishment. "Well, you must have a good stock of impudence, girl, to ask such a thing, and I saw you only yesterday as I did."
"Please, sir, I hadn't been stealing," said Susie with the tears in her eyes.
"And the other girl had not either, I suppose you'll tell me," said the grocer.
"Yes, sir, Elfie had," admitted Susie with a heightened colour; "but she's very sorry now, and won't do it again."
"She won't have the chance, I suppose, for some time," said the man; "they'll keep her in prison, I hope."
"She isn't in prison, sir," said Susie; "she's going to try and get some work in the market, for she wants to be honest."
"Well, there, you can go; I don't want to listen to your tales about a young thief," said the man.
"Oh, sir, won't you let me come and try to be your servant?" asked Susie anxiously.
"Well, if ever I heard such impudence as that!" exclaimed the grocer. "Do you think I'd have a thief to live in my house? Be off, or I'll send for the police to you and have you locked up, and you shan't get off so easily as the girl did yesterday."
Susie turned and went out of the shop with an almost breaking heart, and sitting down on a door-step near, she burst into tears. Her disappointment was the more keen and bitter because she had felt so sure of success; and when at last, chilled and benumbed with the cold, she turned back towards the main road, she had no heart to inquire anywhere else. Everybody would look upon her as a thief now, because she had been seen with Elfie and the policeman; and full of this thought, she turned into Fisher's Lane and went home.
At dinner-time, Elfie came back from the market to know how she had got on. She was not so surprised as Susie thought she would be, when she heard what had happened; but she hung her head with a sense of shame she had never felt before, when Susie told her how it was they would not even give her a trial.
"It's my fault," said Elfie. "O Susie, what shall I do?" And then she burst into tears.
"There, don't cry; it ain't worth crying about," said Susie, trying to speak cheerfully. "I will go out again presently, and perhaps somebody else will give me a trial."
"But they'll think you're a thief because you go with me," said Elfie sadly.
"Never mind, as long as I am not one really. God knows we are trying to be honest, and other people will be sure to know it too by-and-by.—What have you been doing, Elfie?" she asked, by way of turning the conversation.
Elfie's face brightened. She had been very successful at the market this morning, and had earned sixpence, besides having a lapful of potatoes and turnips given to her. "I didn't take one of them, Susie," she said, "and I've promised the man I'll never touch his things again; and he says he'll give me a job now and then, if I keep honest."
"And you will, Elfie, even if the work don't come always?" said Susie, speaking very earnestly.
"I'll try, Susie; I will try," said Elfie.
"And pray too; you must not forget that. God will help you if you ask him," said Susie.
Two meals a day were all the girls could afford; and so it was arranged that the potatoes and turnips should be boiled for tea, to save buying bread. Susie knew how to cook them, for she had seen her mother do so many times, and she promised to have them all ready by the time Elfie came home; for she was going out again to try and get something else to do.
After she was gone, the tears came into Susie's eyes again. Somehow it seemed that she was bearing the punishment of Elfie's wrong-doing, while Elfie herself was more than successful in her feeble attempts to be honest. It was hardly fair, she thought, and for a few minutes her tears flowed fast; but gradually there came into her mind some words of her mother's, about the work God intended her to do in the world, and she thought that this was the way He intended her to help Elfie, perhaps; and that thought made her more calm.
At tea-time, when Elfie came in, cold, hungry, tired, and rather cross, Susie was as cheerful and gentle as ever. She had asked God to help her to love Elfie "through evil report," and be patient with her, and he had answered her prayer. And it was no seeming cheerfulness, but real and heartfelt love, that she met her with now, as she threw herself on the floor in front of the fire.
"We shall have a dinner-tea to-day," she said, as she turned the potatoes and turnips out into a dish. "Come along, Elfie, and let us eat it while it's hot, and then we'll go to school."
"I'm tired, I don't want to go to school to-night," said Elfie crossly.
Susie did not take any notice of this, and before their meal was over Elfie began to look better tempered; and by the time the things were washed and put away, she was ready to go to school.
The teacher looked surprised to see her again so soon, and whispered some words of encouragement when she saw how earnestly she was trying to learn. It was not lost upon Elfie. It seemed to give her renewed courage and hope; and the other girls, seeing she was in earnest in her efforts, thought they might as well try too, and the whole class was more orderly in trying to follow Elfie's example.
This evening school was really pleasant to the poor neglected little street girl, and she overcame her habitual restlessness so far as to sit quietly on the form as long as it was necessary; a thing more difficult to accomplish than many might imagine. Elfie herself thought that as she had managed to do this, the victory over all her bad habits was gained; but she found she had been mistaken before long.
The next day she did not earn a single penny at the market, and Susie only earned twopence, although she was walking about all day; and when they returned home late in the afternoon, tired, cold, and hungry, and Susie said they could only have a piece of dry bread before they went to school, Elfie felt herself rather ill-used. She might have helped herself to some turnips quite easily in the morning, and that would have furnished them with a nice hot meal; but she had resisted the temptation, believing that she should get some work and be able to buy some.
But the work had not come, and they could only spend a penny of what Susie had earned, for the other was needed to make up the rent. They had got a week or two behind, in spite of all their efforts to keep it paid; and the landlord had said they must leave, if some were not ready on Monday. The next day was Saturday, and they hoped to earn some more; but they could not be sure of this.
And so it was with a sad heart they went to school that evening, and Elfie had a hard battle to fight with herself before she could sit still and give her attention to what was being taught.
CONCLUSION.
ELFIE had probably never heard the maxim, "Honesty is the best policy;" and if she had, she certainly would not have believed it. She knew how much, or rather how little, she could earn by fair work; knew, too, that some of her companions would laugh at her for trying to be honest; but she did not know how hard the struggle would be until she fairly tried it. It had been easy enough to slip into the habit of pilfering, but it was not so easy to break it off, when once it was commenced. Again and again did she wish that she had never taken the first wrong step, never formed the evil habit of taking what was not her own, and sometimes she feared she should never be able to break it off now.
Things grew worse and worse with the two girls as the winter advanced. Often they were without fire and without food, except the market refuse Elfie brought home. Susie had tried again and again to get a place such as the grocer's, but no one wanted a girl, it seemed, or at least no one wanted her. It must be that everybody believed her to be a thief, she thought; and Elfie thought so too, and that made her so bitter that she said one day, "I won't try to be honest any longer: everybody says I am a thief, and so I may as well be one; it's better to steal than to starve."
"O Elfie, don't say that!" exclaimed Susie. "We haven't starved yet, and we've managed to keep our home too, though we have had to sell some of the things."
Elfie looked round at the almost bare room. "It's no good trying any longer, Susie," she said; "there's such a lot of poor girls in London, God has forgot all about us two."
"No, he has not; I'm sure he has not," said Susie; "he is 'our Father,' and so he can't forget us."
"Well, he don't mean to help us then," said Elfie. "It's all my fault, I know; I was a thief, and that's why he won't have anything to do with me; I'm too bad, I know."
"You're not, Elfie. Jesus died to save sinners—real sinners like you and me, Elfie. He saved the thief on the cross, and said he should be with him in paradise; and he will save us—save us from our sins, as well as the punishment of them."
But Elfie shook her head. "I can't bear to see you hungry, Susie," she said with a choking sob; "and it's hard to see the potatoes and turnips there in the market, and hear the men say we are a set of little thieves, and sure to help ourselves, and then come away without taking one. You don't know how hard it is."
It was true enough. Even Susie did not know the full bitterness Elfie was daily enduring in her efforts to do right; but that the struggle was a hard one she fully understood, and she said, "Only Jesus knows just how hard it is, Elfie; but he won't let it be more than you can bear. He will send us some help soon. I'm sure he will; perhaps you'll be able to earn a lot of money to-day."
This hope, however, was doomed to disappointment, as it had been so many times before. Elfie came home with only a few bruised apples and a handful of dried crusts as the reward of her day's toil; and Susie made up her mind to speak to the teacher at the school that very night. She had often thought of doing this, but the fear lest she should say, as so many others had done, "I can't have anything to do with thieves," had made her shrink from telling even her how they were placed.
She told Elfie what she meant to do; but all hope had left Elfie now, and she paid little attention to what was said. She divided the apples and crusts between them, and had soon eaten her own share; but Susie's remained almost untouched, and she could not help looking longingly towards them.
Susie saw this, and pushed them towards her. "You eat 'em, Elfie—I can't," she said.
"Can't eat!" exclaimed Elfie, to whom such a thing seemed almost incredible.
"No, I'm not hungry, only sick," said Susie. And, unable to sit up any longer, she laid herself down on the bed. Elfie waited a minute or two, and then took the apple and crusts across to her; but Susie took no notice of her repeated entreaties to eat, and at last Elfie grew frightened. She put the apple down, and bent over the pale, inanimate face, and kissed the cold lips.
"O Susie, open your eyes, or speak to me!" she said, beginning to cry.
But there was only a faint moan in response to her pleadings, and she flew off to knock at the door of one of the other lodgers. But the woman was not at home, and Elfie ran downstairs and out into the street, taking the way towards the school as the only place of friendly refuge.
Just as she was turning a corner, panting and breathless, she ran against the teacher, which brought her to an abrupt standstill.
"You need not be in such a hurry to-night, Elfie; there's no school, you know."
Elfie had forgotten this; but for a minute or two she could not speak, but looked into the teacher's face.
"Don't you remember I told you there was to be a meeting of gentlemen to talk about getting a home or refuge for some of you poor children?" said the teacher.
Elfie nodded. "I know," she said; "but do come to Susie, teacher."
"To Susie! What is the matter with her?" asked the teacher.
"I don't know, but I think she is going to die." And Elfie's tears broke out afresh.
At the same moment the clergyman, on his way to the meeting at the Ragged School, stopped to speak to the teacher, and looked at Elfie.
"What is the matter, my child?" he asked.
"Susie's bad, sir; she can't eat the apple I've brought home for her."
"I am going to see what it is," said the teacher. "Susie Sanders is one of our best scholars."
"Where is your mother, my dear?" asked the clergyman.
"Susie's mother is dead, and I ain't got one," said Elfie.
"I think I will come with you, and see about these girls," said the minister; and he and the teacher followed Elfie to Fisher's Lane.
Poor Elfie was in a great fright, for it was quite dark, and they had no candle, and how the visitors were to find their way upstairs, she did not know. At the door she paused, and whispered, "We live at the top of the house, teacher, and we can't afford to buy candles."
The clergyman overheard the whisper, and put his hand into his pocket. "Here's sixpence, child; run and buy a candle and a box of lucifers."
Elfie darted off, but when she laid the money on the counter at the shop, she saw that instead of a sixpence the minister had given her a half-sovereign. What riches it seemed to her! How much she could buy with all this money! And instinctively her hand went over it as it lay on the counter.
A penny candle and a box of matches, she knew, cost three halfpence, and this taken from sixpence would leave fourpence halfpenny; and this she resolved to return to the minister, keeping the rest for herself. He had told her it was sixpence, so this theft would never be known; and she took the pile of silver and tied it up in a bit of rag, and hid it in her bosom as soon as she got outside the shop, and then ran back to where the minister and the teacher were waiting. The gentleman took the change, and the teacher lighted the candle and went on upstairs, followed by Elfie, who seemed suddenly to have forgotten her anxiety for Susie, and lingered behind.
In truth, Elfie dreaded to see that white face, with this money hidden in her bosom, and already began to wish she had not kept it, for it made her feel so miserable.
At length the little garret was reached, and there lay Susie, cold and insensible as Elfie had left her, with the dirty dry crusts and bruised apple lying by her side.
The gentleman uttered an exclamation of surprise as he looked round the room, while the teacher went across and raised poor Susie's head, glancing at the dry crusts as she did so. "Poor girl! She seems very ill. What has she had to eat to-day?" she asked, speaking to Elfie, who had flung herself on the floor at Susie's feet.
"Nothing," answered Elfie through her sobs; "she couldn't eat the crusts and apples I got."
"And is that all you have had?" asked the clergyman.
But instead of answering, Elfie buried her head in the bed-clothes, sobbing, "O Susie, Susie, do open your eyes and speak to me once more, and let me tell you all about this dreadful money. I won't keep it—I hate it," she added, passionately tugging at the bosom of her ragged frock, and at last dashing a little bundle to the floor.
The teacher had not paid much attention to what Elfie was saying, for the clergyman was speaking to her, asking what was to be done with Susie, who was evidently suffering from want and privation. The room was bitterly cold, and the first thing to be done was to send Elfie to buy some coals and wood; and then, when the fire was lighted, for some milk and a loaf of bread. While the teacher was lighting the fire, and the minister cutting some slices of bread from the loaf, Susie slowly opened her eyes and looked round her. Elfie saw the change, and the next moment was kneeling at her side.
"O Susie, Susie, I almost forgot; but Jesus saved me from being quite a thief again. As soon as ever I saw you, I remembered what you said, and threw the money down."
"Poor Elfie," said Susie in a whisper; and then becoming conscious of the fire and candle light, and the presence of others in the room, said in a frightened tone, "What is it, Elfie?"
But Elfie was pushed aside, and the teacher came forward with a little warm milk in a cup, and gave a few spoonfuls to Susie. The first was poured down her throat; but she took the rest eagerly, and then whispered, "More, please."
The minister could not bear to look at that pale, famished face, and turned away to crumble some of the bread into the milk, and urged Elfie to eat some. Elfie, however, could talk of nothing but money, it seemed; and so at length the minister said, "What is this you are talking about—what money have you stolen?"
"O sir, I didn't think about stealing when you sent me for the candle. I promised Susie I never would steal again; but when I saw what a lot of money there was, and you thought it was only sixpence, I took it, and here it is." And Elfie gave him the little pile of silver tied up in a piece of dirty rag.
It was some little time before the clergyman could fully understand the mistake he had made, and how he should make it was then a mystery to him. And by the time this was made somewhat clear to his mind, he was compelled to leave to attend the meeting; for it was very late now, and what he had seen made him more anxious than ever that a refuge should be established for the poor destitute children of this neighbourhood.
The minister had placed the money given back to him by Elfie in the hand of the teacher, to be expended for the benefit of the two girls; and after she had seen them both eat a basin of bread and milk, she questioned them upon their mode of living, and asked why they had never mentioned to her Susie's wish to get a place.
Both girls looked confused, and Susie said, "I was afraid, teacher."
"Afraid!" repeated the teacher.
"Yes, teacher; everybody said Susie was a thief," said Elfie with a little heightened colour. "She didn't deserve to be called a thief," she went on; "but I did. I often used to steal things, but I don't now; for I couldn't bear to think Susie should bear my punishment all for nothing."
"And so this is why you gave the money back to-night?" said the teacher.
Elfie nodded. "I couldn't help it," she said, "when I saw Susie; all she had said about our Father's love, and what the Lord Jesus had suffered to save me from my sins, came back to my mind, and I was obliged to throw the money down."
Susie had only dimly understood what she said before, but it was explained to her now; and likewise that she was not to attempt to go out the next day until her teacher had been to see her again. She was obliged to leave them now, and giving Susie some money to buy food for the next morning, she took her departure.
After she had gone, the two girls sat talking of all that had happened; but it was evident Elfie was greatly bowed down at the thought of her attempt to rob the minister.
"I shall never learn to be honest," she said; "for if I see anything I can take, I want it directly, and I seem to forget everything else."
"But Jesus has helped you to begin, Elfie, and he'll help you to keep on till you quite hate the sin," said Susie.
"I don't really like it now," said Elfie.
"Well, that is something, for you did love it once; you said so," replied Susie quickly. "Jesus has made you dislike it, and he will go on helping you."
"But I am so wicked, I shan't mind about his help, if I have to stay here for ever; and it's always so hard to keep honest."
This was just what the minister was saying to some gentlemen as they walked home together. Temptations were so strong, the battle of life so hard, for these poor little street children, that it was no wonder they grew up to be wicked men and women.
When he saw the teacher again, he heard of Susie's wish to learn to be a servant, and all she had told her concerning her mother, and he resolved to befriend her if he could. It would not be easy to persuade any one to take a girl without a character from such a place as Fisher's Lane, he knew; but he thought his wife would do so, and could find her some employment in helping the other servants, and a day or two afterwards, Susie heard that she was to go to the minister's house about this.
But, to the teacher's surprise, Susie burst into tears, and said—"Please, ma'am, could Elfie go instead of me?"
"Instead of you!" repeated her teacher. "Why, I thought you wanted to be a servant?"
"Yes, teacher, but so does Elfie; and—and I'm afraid Elfie would give up trying, if I was to go away."
"But I don't think Elfie would be able to do the work required," said the teacher.
Susie looked disappointed. "I'm very sorry," she said, "but I can't leave Elfie."
The teacher had thought, too, it would never do to leave the poor little friendless creature to herself; and believing there was already a great change effected in her character, she had determined to take charge of her. Elfie could run errands, and go to school with her all day, and by-and-by she would learn to do things about the house and make herself useful; and she told Susie of this plan now.
"Oh, thank you; then I shall be so glad to have this place!" said Susie joyfully; and she went at once to prepare herself for the walk.
It was settled that she should go as kitchen maid, as soon as some decent clothes could be made for her; and at the same time, Elfie would take up her abode with the teacher. They would still see each other, for Susie was to attend the Ragged School of an evening; and Elfie promised to go to church every Sunday, that she might sit by her, and hear from the lips of their kind friend truths which they, young as they were, had experienced; and this above all others—"Our Father's" love.
THE END.