about 1 P.M. on Sunday
But the Foundling Hospital . There , in the gallery , would I sit with my sister , and listen to Miss Dolby and Miss Louisa Pyne and Mr. Lawler the bass -- and a tenor and alto whose names I can not recall ; and I thought they sang as they ought to have sung , and was deeply moved and comforted -- more than by any preachments in the world ; and just in the opposite gallery sat Leah with her mother ; and I grew fond of nice clean little boys and girls who sing pretty hymns in unison ; and afterwards I watched them eat their roast beef , small mites of three and four or five , some of them , and thought how touching it all was -- I do n't know why ! Love or grief ? or that touch of nature that makes the whole world kin at about 1 P.M. on Sunday ? One would think that Barty had exerted a bad influence on me , since he seems to have kept me out of all this that was so sweet and new and fresh and wholesome ! He would have been just as susceptible to such impressions as I ; even more so , if the same chance had arisen for him -- for he was singularly fond of children , the smaller and the poorer the better , even gutter children ! and their poor mothers loved him , he was so jolly and generous and kind .