es, they were locked in, there was no doubt about it!

'But don't cry, Poppy,' said Jack, as she burst into tears, 'we'll soon make them hear; the verger sits on that bench close by.'

Jack hammered with his fists on the door, and the sound echoed through the hollow building. Then the three children waited, and listened, hoping to hear the verger's footsteps approaching the door. And when some moments had passed and no one came, he knocked again, and once more they waited and listened. But it was all in vain; no one heard the rapping on the door, no one came to let the little prisoners out.

'He must have gone into the crypt,' said Sally; 'he goes down there when folks come to see the cathedral; maybe he'll be back soon.'

But Jack did not answer her; he was on his knees on the ground, peeping under the crack of the door.

'What can you see, Jack?' asked Poppy.

'It's all dark,' said Jack; 'the cathedral lights are out, and everybody's gone home; whatever shall we do?'

The two little girls sat down on the bottom step, and cried and sobbed as if their hearts would break.

'What's the use of crying?' said Jack, rather angrily; 'what we've got to do is to try to get out. Let's climb up again, and get out on the roof; maybe we can make some one hear if we shout loud enough.'

'It's so dark up there now,' said Sally, glancing fearfully at the narrow, winding staircase; 'we can't see our way a bit.''Never mind that, we can feel,' said the boy; 'come along.'

'Oh! I shall fall—I shall fall!' sobbed Sally.

'You stop down here, then,' said her brother. 'Poppy and I will go.'

'Oh no,—no,—no!' cried the frightened child; 'don't leave me; I don't want to stop here by myself.'

Very slowly and carefully the three children felt their way up the steep steps, and many a tear fell on the old stones as the girls followed Jack. It seemed a long, long way to them, far farther than it had done before; and the wind, which had been rising all the afternoon, came howling and whistling through the narrow window-slits in the tower, and made them cold and shivering.

At last they reached the open place on the roof, but they found it was impossible to stand upon it; such a hurricane of wind had arisen, that they would have been blown over had they tried to leave the shelter of the tower. So all they could do was to remain where they were, and to shout as loudly as they could for help; but the cathedral close was very large, and no one passed through it on that cold, stormy evening, and the street was far away—so far that the voices of the children could not be heard by the passers-by, but were drowned by the noisy, blustering wind. They shouted until they were hoarse, but no help came, and at last even Jack was obliged to acknowledge that he was afraid there was no help for it, but that they must make up their minds to stay there for the night.

'Oh, dear, whatever will mother do without me!' said Poppy; 'she'll have nobody to help her; I must get back to my babies. Oh, Jack, Jack, I must get back to my babies.'

'But you can't get back, Poppy,' said Jack mournfully; 'there's nothing for it but waiting till morning.'

'I'm so cold,' sobbed Sally, 'and I want my tea; whatever shall we do without our tea?''It can't be helped,' said Jack, 'and it's no good crying; let's go to the bottom of the tower again, it's not so windy there as it is up here.'

It was hard work getting down in the dark, and with the whistling wind rushing in upon them at every turn; the old stone steps were worn away in many places, for thousands of feet had trodden them since the day they were put in their places, and the children sometimes lost their footing, and would have fallen had they not held so tightly to each other.

When they reached the bottom of the stone staircase they crouched together close to the door, in the most sheltered corner they could find, and tried to keep each other warm. But it was a bitterly cold night, and the rough noisy wind came tearing and howling down the staircase, and found them out in their hiding-place, and made them shiver from head to foot. And as the hours went by, they felt more and more hungry; their long walk had given them a good appetite, and they had had a very early dinner.

Poor little Sally cried incessantly, and the others did all they could to cheer her; but she refused to be comforted, and at last she was so tired and exhausted that she sobbed herself to sleep. Jack soon afterwards followed her example and fell asleep beside her, and only poor Poppy was awake, crying quietly to herself, and thinking of her mother and of Enoch and Elijah. She was too anxious and too much troubled to sleep, and the hours seemed very long to her. It was such a lonely place in which to spend the night: there was no sound to be heard but the howling of the wind and the striking of the great cathedral clock, which made Poppy jump every time it struck the hour.

How long it seemed to Poppy from one hour to another; the time went much more slowly than usual that night, she thought. Once she became so very lonely and frightened that she felt as if she must wake the others; but she was an unselfish little girl, and she remembered how much poor Sally had cried, and felt glad that she and Jack could forget their trouble for a little time. So she crept quietly away without disturbing them, and climbed slowly up the steep steps to the place where she remembered the first window-slit in the tower came. She thought she would feel less lonely if she could see the lamps burning in the streets, and would feel that the world was not quite so far away as it had seemed to her during all those long, quiet hours.

Poppy did not like to go so far from the other children, and once or twice she turned back, but at length she climbed as far as the slit, and looked out. There were the lamps on either side of the long street which led to the cathedral, but they seemed a great way off, and the cathedral close was quite dark and empty.

'There isn't anybody near,' said Poppy to herself, as she looked down. And then she looked up,—up into the sky. It was covered with clouds which the wind was driving wildly along, but, as Poppy looked, there came a break in the clouds, and one little patch of sky was left clear and uncovered. And there, shining down upon Poppy, was a star,—such a bright beautiful star.

It made her think of heaven, and of God who made the stars. 'God is near,' said Poppy to herself. 'Mother says He is always close beside us. Oh, dear, I quite forgot—I've never said my prayers to-night.'

The child knelt down at once on the cold stone steps, and prayed, and her little prayer went up higher than the towers of that great cathedral—to the ears of the Lord, who loves little children to speak to Him.

'O God,' prayed Poppy, 'please take care of me, and Jack, and Sally, and please don't let mother be frightened, and please make the babies go to sleep; for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.'

Poppy felt comforted after she had prayed; she crept down the steps again, and wrapping her little red cloak as tightly round her as she could, she lay down beside Sally, and fell asleep.