Joe was looking very abstractedly into the grate when they came up to the fence, and for a moment they watched his rugged face with the firelight playing upon it. But Benny, who could read his father^s face pretty cleverly, declared to himself that "he could make nowt out o' Joe's."
As usual, Joe made room for Benny in his little hut; but to-night he took little Nellie very tenderly on his knee, and stroked her long flaxen hair with his hard rough hand, muttering to himself the while, "Purty little hangel; I reckon she's one o' the Lord's elect."
Benny wondered for a long time when Joe was going to say something that he could understand; but somehow to-night he did not like to disturb him by asking questions. Nelly, on the contrary, was far away again from the cold and dingy streets, and the ceaseless roar of the busy town, and was wandering in imagination through sunny meadows where the turf was soft and the grass was green. She fancied she heard the music of purling streams, and the songs of happy birds in the leafy trees that waved their branches over her. The air was fragrant with the scent of flowers that she had heard of, but never seen, and weariness and cold she felt no more.
The voice of Joe banished the beautiful vision from the glowing grate, and the child wondered if ever it would become a reality—if ever she would dwell amid such scenes in a life that had no ending.
"I've some'at to say to 'e, my dears," was Joe's first exclamation; and the children looked up into his face, and
