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[Illustration: “‘Lord, these are the lambs of thy flock.’”]




Jessica’s First Prayer

Jessica’s Mother

  Hesba Stretton

  New York
  H. M. Caldwell Co.
  Publishers




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.
  The Coffee-Stall and its Keeper    PAGE 5

  CHAPTER II.
  Jessica’s Temptation                   15

  CHAPTER III.
  An Old Friend in a New Dress           23

  CHAPTER IV.
  Peeps into Fairy-land                  35

  CHAPTER V.
  A New World Opens                      44

  CHAPTER VI.
  The First Prayer                       50

  CHAPTER VII.
  Hard Questions                         54

  CHAPTER VIII.
  An Unexpected Visitor                  60

  CHAPTER IX.
  Jessica’s First Prayer Answered        69

  CHAPTER X.
  The Shadow of Death                    82




Jessica’s First Prayer.

CHAPTER I.

THE COFFEE-STALL AND ITS KEEPER.


In a screened and secluded corner of one of the many railway-bridges
which span the streets of London there could be seen, a few years
ago, from five o’clock every morning until half-past eight, a tidily
set out coffee-stall, consisting of a trestle and board, upon which
stood two large tin cans with a small fire of charcoal burning under
each, so as to keep the coffee boiling during the early hours of the
morning when the work-people were thronging into the city on their
way to their daily toil. The coffee-stall was a favorite one, for
besides being under shelter, which was of great consequence upon rainy
mornings, it was also in so private a niche that the customers taking
their out-of-door breakfast were not too much exposed to notice; and,
moreover, the coffee-stall keeper was a quiet man, who cared only
to serve the busy workmen without hindering them by any gossip. He
was a tall, spare, elderly man, with a singularly solemn face and a
manner which was grave and secret. Nobody knew either his name or
dwelling-place; unless it might be the policeman who strode past the
coffee-stall every half-hour and nodded familiarly to the solemn man
behind it. There were very few who cared to make any inquiries about
him; but those who did could only discover that he kept the furniture
of his stall at a neighboring coffee-house, whither he wheeled his
trestle and board and crockery every day not later than half-past
eight in the morning; after which he was wont to glide away with a
soft footstep and a mysterious and fugitive air, with many backward
and sidelong glances, as if he dreaded observation, until he was lost
among the crowds which thronged the streets. No one had ever had the
persevering curiosity to track him all the way to his house, or to find
out his other means of gaining a livelihood; but in general his stall
was surrounded by customers, whom he served with silent seriousness,
and who did not grudge to pay him his charge for the refreshing coffee
he supplied to them.

For several years the crowd of work-people had paused by the
coffee-stall under the railway-arch, when one morning, in a partial
lull of his business, the owner became suddenly aware of a pair of very
bright dark eyes being fastened upon him and the slices of bread and
butter on his board, with a gaze as hungry as that of a mouse which has
been driven by famine into a trap. A thin and meagre face belonged to
the eyes, which was half hidden by a mass of matted hair hanging over
the forehead and down the neck--the only covering which the head or
neck had; for a tattered frock, scarcely fastened together with broken
strings, was slipping down over the shivering shoulders of the little
girl. Stooping down to a basket behind his stall, he caught sight of
two bare little feet curling up from the damp pavement, as the child
lifted up first one and then other and laid them one over another to
gain a momentary feeling of warmth. Whoever the wretched child was, she
did not speak; only at every steaming cupful which he poured out of his
can her dark eyes gleamed hungrily, and he could hear her smack her
thin lips as if in fancy she was tasting the warm and fragrant coffee.

“Oh, come now,” he said at last, when only one boy was left taking his
breakfast leisurely, and he leaned over his stall to speak in a low and
quiet tone, “why don’t you go away, little girl? Come, come; you’re
staying too long, you know.”

“I’m just going, sir,” she answered, shrugging her small shoulders to
draw her frock up higher about her neck; “only it’s raining cats and
dogs outside; and mother’s been away all night, and she took the key
with her; and it’s so nice to smell the coffee; and the police has left
off worriting me while I’ve been here. He thinks I’m a customer taking
my breakfast.” And the child laughed a shrill laugh of mockery at
herself and the policeman.

“You’ve had no breakfast, I suppose,” said the coffee-stall keeper, in
the same low and confidential voice, and leaning over his stall till
his face nearly touched the thin, sharp features of the child.

“No,” she replied, coolly, “and I shall want my dinner dreadful bad
afore I get it, I know. You don’t often feel dreadful hungry, do you,
sir? I’m not griped yet, you know; but afore I taste my dinner it’ll be
pretty bad, I tell you. Ah! very bad indeed!”

She turned away with a knowing nod, as much as to say she had one
experience in life to which he was quite a stranger; but before she had
gone half a dozen steps she heard the quiet voice calling to her in
rather louder tones, and in an instant she was back at the stall.

“Slip in here,” said the owner, in a cautious whisper; “here’s a little
coffee left and a few crusts. There. You must never come again, you
know. I never give to beggars; and if you’d begged I’d have called the
police. There; put your poor feet towards the fire. Now, aren’t you
comfortable?”

The child looked up with a face of intense satisfaction. She was seated
upon an empty basket, with her feet near the pan of charcoal, and a cup
of steaming coffee on her lap; but her mouth was too full for her to
reply except by a very deep nod, which expressed unbounded delight.
The man was busy for a while packing up his crockery; but every now and
then he stopped to look down upon her, and to shake his head.

“What’s your name?” he asked, at length; “but there, never mind! I
don’t care what it is. What’s your name to do with me, I wonder?”

“It’s Jessica,” said the girl: “but mother and every body calls me
Jess. You’d be tired of being called Jess, if you were me. It’s Jess
here, and Jess there: and every body wanting me to go errands. And they
think nothing of giving me smacks, and kicks, and pinches. Look here!”

Whether her arms were black and blue from the cold or from ill-usage
he could not tell; but he shook his head again seriously and the child
felt encouraged to go on.

“I wish I could stay here for ever and ever, just as I am!” she cried.
“But you’re going away, I know; and I’m never to come again, or you’ll
set the police on me!”

“Yes,” said the coffee-stall keeper very softly; and looking round to
see if there were any other ragged children within sight, “if you’ll
promise not to come again for a whole week, and not to tell any body
else, you may come once more. I’ll give you one other treat. But you
must be off now.”

“I’m off, sir,” she said, sharply; “but if you’ve a errand I could go
on I’d do it all right, I would. Let me carry some of your things.”

“No, no,” cried the man; “you run away, like a good girl; and, mind!
I’m not to see you again for a whole week.”

“All right,” answered Jess, setting off down the rainy street at a
quick run, as if to show her willing agreement to the bargain; while
the coffee-stall keeper, with many a cautious glance around him,
removed his stock in trade to the coffee-house near at hand, and
was seen no more for the rest of the day in the neighborhood of the
railway-bridge.




CHAPTER II.

JESSICA’S TEMPTATION.


Her part of the bargain Jessica faithfully kept; and though the solemn
and silent man under the dark shadow of the bridge looked for her every
morning as he served his customers, he caught no glimpse of her wan
face and thin little frame. But when the appointed time was finished
she presented herself at the stall, with her hungry eyes fastened
again upon the piles of buns and bread and butter, which were fast
disappearing before the demands of the buyers. The business was at its
height, and the famished child stood quietly on one side watching for
the throng to melt away. But as soon as the nearest church clock had
chimed eight she drew a little nearer to the stall, and at a signal
from its owner she slipped between the trestles of his stand and took
up her former position on the empty basket. To his eyes she seemed even
a little thinner, and certainly more ragged, than before; and he laid a
whole bun, a stale one which was left from yesterday’s stock, upon her
lap, as she lifted the cup of coffee to her lips with both her benumbed
hands.

“What’s your name?” she asked, looking up to him with her keen eyes.

“Why,” he answered, hesitatingly, as if he was reluctant to tell so
much of himself, “my christened name is Daniel.”

“And where do you live, Mr. Dan’el?” she inquired.

“Oh, come now!” he exclaimed, “if you’re going to be impudent, you’d
better march off. What business is it of yours where I live? I don’t
want to know where you live, I can tell you.”

“I didn’t mean no offence,” said Jess humbly; “only I thought I’d like
to know where a good man like you lived. You’re a very good man, aren’t
you, Mr. Dan’el?”

“I don’t know,” he answered uneasily; “I’m afraid I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are, you know,” continued Jess. “You make good
coffee; prime! And buns too! And I’ve been watching you hundreds of
times afore you saw me, and the police leaves you alone, and never
tells you to move on. Oh, yes! you must be a very good man.”

Daniel sighed, and fidgeted about his crockery with a grave and
occupied air, as if he were pondering over the child’s notion of
goodness. He made good coffee, and the police left him alone! It was
quite true; yet still as he counted up the store of pence which had
accumulated in his strong canvas bag, he sighed again still more
heavily. He purposely let one of his pennies fall upon the muddy
pavement, and went on counting the rest busily, while he furtively
watched the little girl sitting at his feet. Without a shade of change
upon her small face she covered the penny with her foot and drew it in
carefully towards her, while she continued to chatter fluently to him.
For a moment a feeling of