TINYS HOPE.

The slant rays of the setting sun lay on the wide stretch of level sandrnsurrounding Bermuda Point, for the tide was out, and had left it smooth,rnor slightly rippled as with tiny wavelets. Standing at the very edge ofrnthe sands, with her eyes shaded, and her clothes blowing round her barernlegs, was a little fair-haired girl. She was slender andrndelicate-looking still, in spite of the sun-browned arms and face.rnMonths had passed, but Tiny was still at the Point.rnrnShe stood gazing seawards for some minutes, and then turned and walkedrnslowly across the rippled sand.rnrn"I can't see him, Dick," she said, in a disappointed tone.rnrn"Oh, well, never mind," said the boy, who sat scooping the loose sand uprnin a heap, beyond the reach of the present ordinary tides.rnrn"Have you filled both the baskets?" asked the little girl, as she wadedrnthrough the loose dry sand to where the boy was sitting.rnrn"No, that I ain't," answered Dick, "mother said you could pick thernsamphire to-day."rnrn"Yes, but you said you'd help me," said the girl, walking steadilyrnacross the sand to the salt-marsh beyond. Here the samphire grew inrnabundance, and the little girl set to work to fill the two large basketsrnthat stood near.rnrn"You might come and help, Dick," she called, hardly repressing a sob asrnshe spoke.rnrn"Look here, I'll help if you'll just come and make some more of themrnletters. You said you would, you know," added the boy, still piling uprnthe sand.rnrn"Oh, Dick, you know I can't; you know I've forgot a'most everythingrnsince I've been here;" and this time the little girl fairly burst intorntears, and sat down beside the half-filled baskets, and sobbed as thoughrnher heart would break.rnrnThe boy's heart was touched at the sight of her distress, and he ranrnacross to comfort her.rnrn"Don't cry, Tiny; I'll help yer, and then we'll try agin at the letters.rnI know three--A B C: you'll soon find out about the others, and make 'emrnin the sand for me."rnrnBut Tiny shook her head. "I'd know 'em if I had a book," she said,rnsadly; "ain't it a pity daddy ain't got one?"rnrn"What 'ud be the good of books to dad?" said Dick. "Harry Hayes has gotrnsome, I know; but then he goes to school, and knows all about 'em.rnThere, let's forget we see him with that book yesterday, for it ain't norngood for us to think about it," concluded Dick; for he did not like tornsee Tiny's tears, and the easiest way of banishing them was to forgetrnthe original cause, he thought. But the little girl was not of the samernopinion. She shook her head sadly as she said--rnrn"I've forgot a'most everything my mother told me."rnrn"Oh, that you ain't," contradicted the boy, "You never forget to sayrnyour prayers before you go to bed. I wonder you ain't forgot that; Irnshould, I know."rnrn"How could you, Dick, if you knew God was waiting to hear you?" saidrnTiny, lifting her serious blue eyes to his face.rnrn"Then why ain't He waiting to hear me?" asked Dick.rnrnThe question seemed to puzzle the little girl for a minute or two; butrnat length she said--rnrn"He is, Dick, I think; I'm a'most sure He's waiting for yer to begin."rnrn"Then He's waited a good while," said Dick, bluntly; and he got up andrnbegan to pull away at the samphire, by way of working off or digestingrnthe wonderful thought. After working away in silence for some minutes,rnDick said--rnrn"D'ye think God cares for us down here at Bermuda Point?"rnrnTiny paused, with her hands full of samphire.rnrn"Why shouldn't He?" she said. "I know He cares for me. He loves me," shernadded, in a tone of triumph; "my mother told me so. She said He loved mernjust as well as she did."rnrn"I'd like to know whether He cares about me," said Dick. "D'ye think yerrncould find out for us, Tiny? Yer see everybody likes you--mother, andrnfather, and Bob; and Harry Hayes showed you his book yesterday. You seernyou're a gal, and I think you're pretty," added Dick, critically; "so itrn'ud be a wonder if He didn't like you."rnrn"And why shouldn't He love you, Dick?" said Tiny.rnrnDick looked down at the patched, ragged, nondescript garments thatrnserved him as jacket and trousers, and then at his bare, sunburnt armsrnand legs. "Well, I'm just Dick of the Point. I ain't a gal, and I ain'trnpretty." Nobody could dispute the latter fact, which Dick himself seemedrnto consider conclusive against any interest being taken in him, for hernheaved a sigh as he returned to his work of picking the samphire.rnrnThe sigh was not lost on Tiny. "Look here, Dick," she said, "you ain't arngal, and p'r'aps you ain't pretty, but I love you;" and she threw herrnarms round his neck as he stooped over the basket. "I love yer, Dick,rnand I'll find out all about it for yer. I'm a'most sure God loves yerrntoo."rnrn"Oh, He can't yet, yer know," said Dick, drawing his arms across hisrneyes to conceal the tears that had suddenly come into them. "I don'trnnever say no prayers nor nothing. I ain't never heerd about Him, onlyrnwhen dad swears, till you come and said your prayers to Him."rnrn"Still, He might, yer know," said Tiny; "but if you'll help, I'll findrnout all about it."rnrn"What can yer do?" asked Dick.rnrn"Well, I'll tell yer why I want dad to come home soon to-night," saidrnTiny, resting her hands on the basket, and looking anxiously across thernsea. "Mother said he'd take the samphire by boat to Fellness, and Irnthought perhaps he'd take me too."rnrn"Well, s'pose he did?" said Dick, who could see no connection between arnvisit to the village and the attainment of the knowledge they bothrndesired.rnrn"Why, then I might get a book," said Tiny. "I'd go with dad to sell thernsamphire; and then we'd see the shops; and if he had a good take, and werngot a lot of samphire, he'd have enough money to buy me a book, as wellrnas the bread and flour and tea."rnrnDick burst into a loud laugh. "So this is your secret; this is whatrnyou've been thinking of like a little goose all day."rnrnTiny was half offended. "You needn't laugh," she said; "I shall do it,rnDick."rnrn"Will yer?" he said, in a teasing tone. "If there wasn't no whisky, andrnthere was bookshops at Fellness, you might. Why, what do you think thernvillage is like?" he asked.rnrn"Like? Oh, I dunno! Everything comes from Fellness," added the littlerngirl, vaguely.rnrnTo the dwellers at the Point, the little fishing-village was the centrernof the universe; and Tiny, with faint recollections of a large town,rnwith broad streets, and rows of shops all brilliantly lighted at night,rnhad formed magnificently vague notions of Fellness as being somethingrnlike this; and she had only got to go there, and it would be easy torncoax the old fisherman to buy her a book, as she coaxed him to build herrna castle in the sand, or take her on his knee and tell her tales ofrnships that had been wrecked on the bar sands.rnrn"But do you know what Fellness is like?" persisted Dick. "There ain't nornshops at all--only one, where they sells flour, and bread, and 'bacca,rnand tea, and sugar, and soap. They has meat there sometimes; but I neverrnsees no books, and I don't believe they ever has 'em there," concludedrnthe boy.rnrn"Perhaps they keeps 'em in a box where you can't see 'em," suggestedrnTiny, who was very unwilling to relinquish her hope.rnrn"Pigs might fly, and they will when they sells books at Fellness,"rnremarked Dick.rnrn"Where does Harry Hayes get his from?" suddenly asked the girl; and atrnthe same moment she espied a speck on the horizon, which she decided wasrna fisherman's boat. "He's coming, Dick, dad's coming," she exclaimed."Make haste--make haste and fill up the baskets;" and she tore away atrnthe seaweed, piling it into the baskets as fast as her small hands wouldrnpermit. "Now we'll carry one down," she said, taking hold of the handle."Catch hold, Dick;" for she wanted to be at the edge of the sands by therntime the boat touched the shore.rnrnBut Dick was in no such hurry to meet his father. "There's plenty ofrntime," he said, leisurely untying a knot in a piece of string.rnrn"No there isn't, Dick; don't you know I'm going to Fellness in thernboat."rnrn"But you're afraid," said the boy; "ain't father tried to coax you lotsrno' times to go out with him, and yer never would? You'll just get to thernedge, and when yer sees it rock a bit yer'll run away."rnrn"No, I won't, Dick, this time," said the little girl. But as she spoke arnshiver of fear and dread ran through her frame at the thought of thernswaying boat.rnrnDick saw it, and laughed. "Didn't I tell yer you was afraid," he said,rnin a mocking tone; "what's the good of going down there, when you'rernfrightened?"rnrn"But I want a book, Dick; I must learn to read, and find out what wernwant to know. Oh, do make haste!" she added, as she saw the boatrnapproaching the shore.rnrnDick was still laughing, but he helped her carry the basket, though hernteased her as they went along about being frightened. They got acrossrnthe sands with their samphire, just as Coomber and Bob were springingrnashore.rnrn"Oh, daddy, take me with yer to Fellness," called Tiny, shutting herrneyes as she spoke that she might not see the treacherous waves and thernswaying boat.rnrn"Halloo, halloo! What now, deary?" exclaimed Coomber. And it wasrnwonderful to see the change in his hard face as he lifted the littlerngirl in his arms and kissed her.rnrn"She says she'll go," said Dick, "but I don't believe she means it."rnrn"Yes I do. You'll take me, daddy, won't yer--'cos I've picked a lot ofrnsamphire--all that, and another basketful up there? Go and fetch it,rnBob, and daddy can put it in the boat. And I'm going, too."rnrn"So you shall, deary, so you shall," said the old fisherman, in arnpleased tone, for he had often tried to coax her out with him on thernsea; but the memory of that awful night on the bar sands still clung tornher, and the sight of the boat, swayed about at the mercy of the waves,rnfilled her with a nameless terror.rnrn"There won't be a storm, will there?" asked Tiny, with a shiver of fear,rnas the fisherman carefully lifted her in and placed her beside thernbasket of samphire.rnrn"My deary, if I thought the wind 'ud be even a bit fresh to-night, Irnwouldn't take yer," said the fisherman, in an earnest tone.rnrnHe had never been so tender with one of his own children--unless it wasrnto the little girl lying in the churchyard--as he was to this littlernwaif of the sea; and now, as he pushed off from the shore, he wasrncareful to keep the old boat as steady as possible, and sat watching herrnlittle frightened face as he plied his oars. He kept as close to thernbeach, too, as he well could, just skirting the sand-banks, so that shernshould have the comfort of seeing the land all the way along.rnrnAfter a few minutes Tiny grew less frightened, and ventured to ask arnquestion about where they were going.rnrn"Oh, I'll take yer to see Dame Peters while Bob unloads the boat," saidrnCoomber, nodding at her in an approving manner.rnrn"And shall I see the shops?" asked Tiny; for she did not believe whatrnDick had told her.rnrn"Shops, shops!" repeated the fisherman, resting on his oars for a minuternto stare at the little girl. "Well, there's a shop," he said, slowly;"but I don't see what you can want there."rnrn"Do they sell books?" asked Tiny, eagerly.rnrnFor answer the fisherman burst into a loud laugh. "What does a littlern'un like you know about books?" he said. "But I know of something theyrndo sell, as 'll suit you a deal better; they sell sweets, and almondrnrock, as well as 'bacca and bread, and you shall have some, my deary."rnrnThe fisherman expected a joyous outburst in anticipation of thesernunwonted dainties, but the little girl said slowly--rnrn"Don't they sell books, too, daddy? I'd rather have a book than almondrnrock," she added.rnrn"Why, what do you want with a book, a little 'un like you?" saidrnCoomber, impatiently.rnrn"We both wants it, Dick and me; we wants to find out whether God lovesrnboys as well as gals."rnrnThe fisherman looked at her serious little face for a minute, and thenrnburst into a laugh again. "Well, you are a rum 'un as ever I camernacross. Did you hear that, Bob?" he asked, appealing to his elder son,rnwho was steering. Bob turned his sulky face round.rnrn"What's she saying now?" he asked.rnrn"What was, it little 'un--whether God loved boys and gals, wasn't it?"rnasked the fisherman, who was highly amused at the question.rnrn"He don't love none of us, I can tell her that," said Bob, sharply. "Hernforgot us long ago, if ever He knowed anything about us."rnrn"There, what d'ye think o' that, little 'un?" said the fisherman,rnpulling away at the oars.rnrnTiny looked perplexed for a minute or two, but at length she said: "Irnthink God knows all about the Point, 'cos He loves me, and He listensrnwhen I say my prayers. But s'pose I tell him," she suddenly added, asrnthough the thought had just occurred to her; "I can ask Him to bless yournand mammy, and Dick and Bob. But I should like to get a book," she said,rnin conclusion.rnrn"Oh, the sweets 'll do as well," said the fisherman, who saw little usernin books. He might have humoured Tiny in what he looked upon as a mostrnextraordinary whim, but he never remembered seeing such a thing as arnbook in Fellness all the years he had known the place. People might havernbooks, some of them, at least, but they were not of much use tornfisher-folks, and he rather despised them.rnrnThe sun had gone down before they landed; but the moon was rising; andrnso, between daylight and moonlight, they would be able to get backrnwithout any difficulty, when the fish and samphire were disposed of.rnrn"Now, Bob, get her unloaded, while I take the little 'un up to see DamernPeters," said Coomber, as he lifted Tiny out of the boat.rnrnShe was looking round eagerly in search of the houses and shops, for inrnspite of what she had been told, she could not divest herself of thernidea that Fellness was a grand, glorious place, where everything couldrnbe bought if people only had fish and seaweed enough; and surely two bigrnbaskets of samphire were sufficient to buy a book.rnrnBut to her disappointment she saw only a few lounging fishermen andrnchildren--like herself and Dick--instead of the crowds of people she hadrnexpected; and as for shops--well, she could see a row of stone cottagesrnat a distance. There might be a dozen, perhaps, and a few sheds andrnoutbuildings, but the rest of the landscape was flat and unoccupied asrntheir own Point; and at the sight Tiny hid her face in the fisherman'srnneck and burst into tears.