“Where we always got such lots of flowers to decorate with because no one ever lived there.  Why, the house is almost tumbled down.  How can anyone live there?”

“No one would if they were not very poor.  Of course you can tell by the girl’s clothes that she is poor.”

“Come on, girls, never mind talking about her,” said one of the number impatiently.  “What difference does it make to us who she is?  We will be late,” and the troop of merry girls passed on down the street.

Meantime the subject of this conversation was hurrying in another direction, her eyes blinded by the quick tears that had sprung unbidden to them when the wistful glance she had cast at the girls had been met with only those of cold curiosity.

“It is hard to be so alone,” she murmured, “but I must not let mamma know.”

The girls went on their way, unconscious of the wistful look, or unthinking that they had been in any way unkind.

Nellie Ross had noticed, however, and she was thoughtful all the afternoon.  How must it feel, she wondered, to be alone among strangers.  As they were returning home toward night, she whispered to her particular friend:—­

“Do you know, Mabel, I can not help thinking of that girl we met this morning.”

“What girl?” asked Mabel Willis, with a slightly puzzled air.

“Why, the one that Margaret said lived in the little cottage you know.”

“O yes.  What about her?”

“Why she looked at us so wistfully, and I never see her with anyone; she must be lonely.”

“Well?”

“You know what the Bible says,” slowly:  “’I was a stranger and ye took Me not in.’  This girl is a stranger and don’t you think we might apply that?”

“Just what are you thinking of, Nellie?”

“I was thinking that we might call on her and ask her to join our Sabbath school class, and that might open the way.”

Mabel laughed.  “You always were a regular missionary, Nellie; but I hardly believe I care to go with you,” with a shrug of her shoulders.

Nellie was disappointed, but she said no more for she had learned the uselessness of arguing with Mabel, so she determined to make her call alone.

Nellie felt a little timid as she presented herself at the tiny home the next afternoon.  The girl herself answered her rap, and invited her into the wee living room.  In an easy chair at one side of the fireplace reclined a delicate, sweet-faced woman.

[Illustration:  “‘I thank you, my dear,’ said the woman.”]

“My name is Nellie Ross, and I have noticed you and thought you were a stranger here,” began Nellie in the winning way that had always won her many friends, “and so I thought I would call and ask you to join our Sabbath school class.  We have such good times, and Mrs. Allen, our teacher, is so interesting.”

“I would like to go,” the girl faltered; “but they are all such strangers to me, and”—­