daisies, a confused little fumbling tap was
heard at the workshop door, and several of
the workers, when they recognised the little
creature who was knocking, joyfully pulled
her in. They had not seen her for many
months — not since they had all been
together in the Ragged School. Her school-
fellows had sought for this poor little
creature, who had won their love and sympathy,
to tell her of their new kind of work; but
her parents had left their old house, and
gone none of the neighbours knew whither.

Well, there she was. And the great girls
took her in their arms and passed her from
one to another, and the little ones took it in
turns to hold her hand. " How are you?"
"Where have you been all this time?"
"Where do you live? " " How did you
come ? " The child, in a ragged gown that
had belonged to a much larger sister,
answered only the last of these questions.
She partially drew up her long dress, and
held out her feet, buried in enormous boots.
"I would have come long ago," she said,
with perfect good humour, " but I had no
shoes and no stockings. I wanted so much
to come to-day, I could not stay away any
longer. Mrs. Sims told me you were at work
here, so I put on Billy's boots. My feet are
so sore," she added, wincing with the pain.

Miss O. P. Q. went to her and had the
boots removed, the poor little stockingless
feet bathed; for they were swollen and
bleeding. News of the child's effort being
in the meantime carried by his wife to the
foreman of the men's workshop, in another
part of the buildiug; he, who was a good-
natured man, made a collection amongst
the workpeople; and, going out himself
for the purpose, bought a pair of stockings,
and a pair of strong well-fitting shoes.
Within an hour the little girl was comfortably
shod: proud indeed, and happy. Moreover,
there were rumours that the foreman's
wife intended giving her two pinafores; for
her great frock hung in dirty strips about
her limbs.

My visit to the room was paid soon after
the arrival of the little outcast. While she
rested from her long walk, sitting by Miss
O. P. Q , some girls came up to the table,
and inquired what they should do. " Your
Balaklava work." Now, this work did not
seem to be popular. The name was applied
to a great pile of confusion in the corner of
the room, strongly contrasting with the order
everywhere else visible. It was a heap of
wire-frames which had been made in the
spring, before the girls could work so well as
they now do. These frames had been paid for;
but, being found unlit for use, Miss O. P. Q. had
decreed that each girl should spend a part
of every day in correcting this bad work,
without receiving further payment. The
girls murmured. " Edith," the teacher then
said to her own younger sister, "then I must
give it to you to do." The golden-haired
child lifted up her eyes, and then answered
promptly, "Which shall I begin upon, the
large arm-chairs or the sofas ' Her obedience
had a prompt effect. "No, if you please,"
several cried out at once, " don't give Balaklava
work to Miss Edith. She has no right to do
it. None of that bad work is hers. We'll
do it." And as gay as larks, they skipped
across the room, took up the work, and set
about it.

The new comer — who got the name of
Ragged Robin — was of course put to the
easiest employment; covering the wire with
muslin. Her fingers were awkward, and she
was bewildered with the scene around her;
she did not get on at all well. Miss O. P. Q.
encouraged her, and said that every one must
have her time to learn; appealing to the
girls, who testified that, at first, they had not
earned sixpence a-week, and now they could
earn six, eight, or ten shillings.

Some incident having produced, soon
afterwards, a conversation about spiders, Miss
O. P. Q. went for a book, and read to the
girls, while they worked, an amusing account
of spiders and of their ways.

As dinner-time drew near, our new
upholsteress becoming hungry, produced from her
pocket a penny saveloy, which she had
bought upon the road. She was
recommended, however, not to eat it, and invited
to dine with the other girls; two of whom
were then laying the dinner-cloth on one of
the workroom tables, whilst another was to
be heard cooking in an adjoining room. The
girls, I found, paid a shilling from their
wages every Saturday, for the week's dinner;
and, by all dining together, they secured a
wholesome and sufficient meal even for the
daily twopence. This was an arrangement
of Miss O. P. Q.'s; who had remarked with
sorrow the unwholesome food brought by
the children, and that even sometimes they
brought with them none at all; either
because their mothers had nothing to give them,
or were in an ill humour, and might not be
asked for it.

The young cook brought in the produce of
her skill — a dish of stewed meat, and a more
ample dish of hot potatoes. The girls sang a
grace, and the new comer's eyes, at that and
at the steam of meat together, filled with
tears. The pure air she breathed, the light,
comfort, and cleanliness, the social meal, the
cheerful faces, were all so different from what
she knew at home.

After dinner, the children ran down to
their gardens, attended their flowers — for
they had gardens; and, in three-quarters of
an hour after the time when dinner had
begun, they were all happily seated again at
their work.

At four o'clock, a bright-looking young
lady, who had not appeared before,
summoned the girls to their lessons. They
addressed her as Miss Anna, and at once two
of the girls sprang away to prepare the