She submitted in a kind of stunned bewilderment. The address she
had found in the "Morning Post" was her rescue--she could go
there, she thought, rapidly, even if she had to come away again.
Almost before she could realise what had happened in all the noise
and bustling to and fro, she found herself in a taxi-cab, and her
kind fellow-traveller standing beside it, raising his hat to her
courteously in farewell. She gave him the address of the house in
Kensington which she had copied from the advertisement she had
seen in the "Morning Post," and he repeated it to the taxi-driver
with a sense of relief and pleasure. It was what is called "a
respectable address"--and he was glad the child knew where she was
going. In another moment the taxi was off,--a parting smile
brightened the wistful expression of her young face, and she waved
her little hand to him. And then she was whirled away among the
seething crowd of vehicles and lost to sight. Old John Harrington
stood for a moment on the railway-platform, lost in thought.

"A sweet little soul!" he mused--"I wonder what will become of
her! I must see her again some day. She reminds me of--let me
see!--who does she remind me of? By Jove, I have it! Pierce
Armitage!--haven't seen him for twenty years at least--and this
girl's face has a look of his--just the same eyes and intense
expression. Poor old Armitage!--he promised to be a great artist
once, but he's gone to the dogs by this time, I suppose. Curious,
curious that I should remember him just now!"

And he went his way, thinking and wondering, while Innocent went
hers, without any thought at all, in a blind and simple faith that
God would take care of her.