A very old story, my dear, new and dreadful as it seems to you, and I think it won't do you any harm to see and help this little girl, who has gone through dark places that you are never like to know." "I will; indeed, I will do all I can! Where is she now ?" asked Polly, touched to the heart by the story, so simple yet so sad.
"There," and Miss Mills pointed to the door of her own little bedroom.
"She was well enough to be moved to-night, so I brought her home and laid her safely in my bed.

Poor little soul! she looked about her for a minute, then the lost look went away, and she gave a great sigh, and took my hand in both her thin bits of ones, and said, 'O, ma'am, I feel as if I 'd been born into a new world.

Help me to begin again, and I 'll do better.' So I told her she was my child now, and might rest here, sure of a home as long as I had one." As Miss Mills spoke in her motherly tone, and cast a proud and happy look toward the warm and quiet nest in which she had sheltered this friendless little sparrow, feeling sure that God meant her to keep it from falling to the ground, Polly put both arms about her neck, and kissed her withered cheek with as much loving reverence as if she had been a splendid saint, for in the likeness of this plain old maid she saw the lovely charity that blesses and saves the world.
"How good you are! Dear Miss Mills, tell me what to do, let me help you, I 'm ready for anything," said Polly, very humbly, for her own troubles looked so small and foolish beside the stern hardships which had nearly had so tragical an end, that she felt heartily ashamed of herself, and quite burned to atone for them.
Miss, Mills stopped to stroke the fresh cheek opposite, to smile, and say, "Then, Polly, I think I 'll ask you to go in and say a friendly word to my little girl.

The sight of you will do her good; and you have just the right way of comforting people, without making a fuss." "Have I ?" said Polly, looking much gratified by the words.
"Yes, dear, you 've the gift of sympathy, and the rare art of showing it without offending.

I would n't let many girls in to see my poor Jenny, because they 'd only flutter and worry her; but you 'll know what to do; so go, and take this wrapper with you; it 's done now, thanks to your nimble fingers." Polly threw the warm garment over her arm, feeling a thrill of gratitude that it was to wrap a living girl in, and not to hide away a young heart that had grown cold too soon.