How she longed to ask the minister to take her to those courts
and alleys, and to tell her in what way she might best help those
neglected ones. How many plans coursed through her eager little brain
for their succour. But the preacher had said he wanted money for their
help; a collection was to be made before they left the church.
Grace's store of pocket-money was slender, and, moreover, was not in her
pocket now. How gladly would she have emptied her little silken purse,
if she had only had it with her; but, alas! it lay uselessly in her
drawer at home. Her conventional penny had been put into the plate at
the door, as she came into church, and Grace thought ruefully that she
had nothing--nothing to give to help these poor forsaken ones, whose
hard lot had so touched her heart. Just then, however, she happened to
raise her hand to her neck, and was reminded of an ornament which she
always wore, the only precious thing she possessed. It was an
old-fashioned locket, with rows of pearls round it, and in the centre a
baby lock of her own hair, which her mother used to wear. Her Aunt Hume
had some time ago taken it out of the old jewel-case which awaited her
when Grace was old enough to be trusted with its contents, and given it
to her to wear, so it was her very own. But was not this a worthy
occasion for bringing of one's best and most precious things? Might not
this pearl locket help to bring some little outcast waif into paths of
pleasantness and peace? Yes, the locket should be given to the special
collection, Grace resolved; but it might not be wise, to divulge the
intention to Margery, who had already replied, when she was asked by
Grace if she could lend her any money, that nobody would expect a
collection from such a young lady.
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