|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
insisted on reciting the only piece she knew. Kneeling on the hearthrug, she put her hands together, palm to palm, and shutting her eyes very tightly she repeated the verse she always said every night before going to bed:
`Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look on me, a little child.
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to Thee.'
Then she stood up and kissed everyone in turn, and Philpot crossedover and began looking out of the window, and coughed, and blew his nose, because a nut that he had been eating had gone down the wrong way.
Most of them were by this time quite tired out, so after some supper the party broke up. Although they were nearly all very sleepy, none of them were very willing to go, but they were consoled by the thought of another entertainment to which they were going later on in the week - the Band of Hope Tea