There was no chance whatever of Jesus coming to a place like this,
and Cecile's last hope of His helping her vanished.

The strong desire that He would come again and do something
wonderful, as He had done the day before, had been with her for many
dreary hours; and when this hope disappeared, the last drop in her
cup of trouble was full, and poor, brave, tired little pilgrim that
she was, she cried long and bitterly. The pale woman by her side was
long ago fast asleep. Indeed silence, broken only by loud snores, was
already brooding over the noisy room. Cecile was just beginning to
feel her own eyes drooping, when she was conscious of a little
movement. There was a gas jet turned down low in the room, and by its
light she could see that unpleasant red-faced girl sitting up in bed.
She was not only sitting up, but presently she was standing up, and
then the little girl felt a cold chill of fear coming over her. She
came up to the bedside.

Cecile almost thought she must scream, when suddenly the pale woman,
who had appeared so sound asleep, said quietly:

"Go back to yer bed at once, Peggie Jones. I know what you're up to."

The girl, discomfited, slunk away; and for ten minutes there was
absolute silence. Then the woman, laying her hand on Cecile's
shoulder, said very softly:

"My dear, you have a little money about you?"

"Yes," answered the child.