A London Baby: The Story of King Roy
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added, in a tonewhich he endeavoured to render cheerful, "The little chap 'ull be backvery soon, I guess. Do you hear me, Faith? I expect little Roy to bebrought back almost immediately."
"Yes, father," answered Faith. She raised her dull eyes to his face.He saw not a gleam of either hope or belief in them, and, unable toendure the despair of the little daughter whom he had never loved, hepushed back his chair and left the room. The moment he did so Faithbreathed a slight sigh of relief. She left the breakfast-table, and,getting a chair, she mounted it and took down from a high shelf an oldand dusty copy of the Bible. It was a copy she had seen in her mother'shands. She had watched her dying mother read in this old Bible, andsmile and look happy as she read. Afterwards Faith had tried herself toread in the old book. But one day her father, seeing it lying about,and feeling that it reminded him of his wife, who never had it very farfrom her side, had put it up out of the children's reach, and Faith hadhitherto been too timid to dare to take it down; but there was nothingat all timid about the little girl's movements to-day. An absorbingagony of grief and pain was filling her poor little heart to the utterexclusion of all lesser feelings. She fetched down the old Bible fromits dusty hiding-place, because it had come back to her memory in thelong hours of the wakeful night she had just gone through, that theSunday teacher who had given her that sweet and peaceful lesson the daybefore had said that the Bible was full of stories about Jesus. If onlyshe _could_ find the place where he took the babies in His arms, and wasso good and kind to them. Perhaps if she found the account of the storyshe might also learn how the mothers and the sisters--for surely theremust have been little sad orphan sisters like her in that group--shemight learn how they came to Jesus with the babies; she might find outhow He was to be found now. Her teacher had said He was not dead. Theneighbour down-stairs had said He was not dead. Then, if that was so,would not the very best thing Faith could do be to go to Him firstherself, and tell Him that Roy was lost--that he had gone quite, quitefar away, and ask Him to help her to find him? She placed the Bible onthe table, got a duster, and, tenderly removing its dust, opened it. Itwas a large book--a book with a great, great deal of writing, and Faithwondered how soon she could find this particular story that she longedfor. She could read very slowly, and very badly. She might be a longtime seeing the place where Jesus blessed the babies; but hereunlooked-for help was at hand. Faith's dead mother, too, had loved thisspecial story. The place opened at the very page, and, to help Faithstill further, the words were heavily marked with a pencil.
Yes, it was all there; all that the ragged girl had told her yesterday.Faith had a vivid imagination, and she saw the whole picture--she sawthe waiting mothers and the lovely baby children. She saw the angrydisciples trying to send them away, and the face of the dear Saviour ofthe whole world as, taking one after the other of these lambs in Hisarms, He said, "Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbidthem not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven."
Faith read the story over and over until she really knew it all byheart. Yes, it was all there, but one difficulty was not over. She hadread with her own eyes the story, but she saw nothing in the sacredwords to help her special need--nothing about where Jesus lived now,nothing of how she, Faith, could go to Him, and ask Him to help her tofind her little brother. She had less doubt than ever in her own mindof His perfect willingness to help her--of His perfect power to find Royagain. But how could she find Him? In what part of vast London didJesus live now?
Faith returned the old Bible into its place. She had found out what itcould tell her. Who was there who could give her the further knowledgefor which she craved? On one point, however, she had quite made up hermind. With the aid of Jesus, or without, she must go herself to findher little brother. This course of action seemed to her right, andclear as daylight. It was all very well to talk of police anddetectives searching for the child. Faith did not know anything aboutsuch people. Knowing nothing, she believed not at all in their power,but she did believe most fully in the power of her own great love.Surely no one else in all the world could distinguish Roy's little faceso far away; no one else could detect the clear ring of his voice in theroar and din of London. The little child had run away in fear andloneliness; but Faith, by the strength and power of her love, couldbring him back again. She did not think at all about her father. Shefailed either to see or comprehend his new-born affection or anxiety.Her little heart felt hard against him; he had been cruel to her darlingbaby boy, and Faith could make no allowance for the torn prize essay.Her father was hard and cruel to every one. Faith did not pity him; nordid she believe in the least in _his_ ability to bring the lost childhome. No, this must be her task. She tied on her hat, and put on herout-door jacket, and ran down-stairs, for she had not a moment to lose.At the foot of the stairs she met the neighbour who had come into theirroom the evening before. She stopped her for a moment.
"Please, Mrs Mason, 'ull you tell father as I ha' gone out to look forRoy?"
"Bless us, child!" exclaimed the good-natured woman; "but you do lookreal bad. I think as I wouldn't go out, Honey; the little 'un will bebrought back now they has put it inter the hands of the perleece."
"I know best how to find him--please 'ull you tell father?" answeredFaith in her quiet little voice, and the woman did not trouble to detainher further.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
Faith thought first of going to Regent's Park, for Roy was so accustomedto visiting this park on fine Sunday mornings with his sister, thatperhaps his little feet might guide him there unconsciously. She forgotthat at the time at which Roy had run out into the warm darkness of theautumn night, the park gates must have been shut. She walked rapidly inthis direction now, entered the pleasant and beautiful place, and walkedtowards the spot where she and Roy had been so happy on Sunday. Yes,there was the wide-spreading oak-tree, there were the daisies still leftthat Roy had picked and thrown away the day before. Faith stooped downnow and picked up these withered flowers, and put them carefully intoher pocket. Roy's castaway flowers were there, but not Roy--not herprecious little Roy himself. Faith pressed her hands to her eyes, herheart was too heavy--too absolutely oppressed--for tears to come. Butshe was puzzled to know what course now to pursue. Faith was no commonstreet child; though her father was only a carpenter, he was too steady,too respectable not always to obtain full employment and excellent pay,therefore the dire evils of poverty had never been experienced by littleFaith. With the exception of a great loneliness, and a great dearth ofthe holy love of fatherhood, her life had been sheltered from all therough winds which blow upon the class a little below her own. Had shebeen a common street child she would have known much better how to seekfor Roy; as it was, she was puzzled. Not finding him in the one placewhere it would be utterly impossible for him to be, she did not knowwhere else to look. Oh, if only she could discover the place whereJesus lived now, and ask Him to come and help her in her search! Jesus,however, was far nearer to the little lonely girl than she had any ideaof, and He now sent her unlooked-for assistance.
A sharp, high voice sounded in her ear, "Well, wot h'ever ere you up to,and where's the little un?"
It was the ragged girl who had washed her lips to get a kiss from littleRoy on Sunday. Faith gave a great sigh of relief at sight of her.
"I'm so real glad yer come," she said; "h'our little Roy ha' run away--h'our little Roy is lost!"
"Lost!" said the girl; she went down on her knees close beside Faith,and stared hard into her face. Her own face, even through its dirt,looked blanched, and a frightened expression came into her eyes. "Tellus how yer little Roy got lost," she said presently.
The sympathy in the girl's face and tone caused some softening ofFaith's little heart.
"It was on Sunday," she continued; "I did think a deal o' what you said'bout Jesus blessing the little children, and I disobeyed my father andran away to Sunday-school. While I was away, little Roy ran out intothe street: that wor how my little Roy got so
lost--it wor all my fault;I wish as you ha'n't told me nothing about Jesus."
"I didn't mean no harm," answered the girl, "I only telled 'bout what Iloved. But did you do nothing since? Why you should ha' done heaps andheaps--you should ha' gone to the perlice, and put the young 'un interthe `Hue and Cry;' you should ha' done all that last night, Faith."
"I don't know wot h'ever you mean," replied Faith; "how could we put ourlittle Roy into a place when we don't know wherever he is? We don'twant to put our little Roy anywhere, only jest to bring him home."
The ragged girl laughed. "Yer rare and innercent," she said; "I didn'tmean no _place_ by the `Hue and