"Oh yes, indeed," and Miss Gregory's face brightened. "Their hearts may be made well and sound and happy, Peggy; and after all, that is the best part of us, isn't it? We think a lot of our body, with its aches and pains, but it is only a cage. I passed down a narrow dark street yesterday, and outside a window there was a thrush, singing as sweetly as if he were perched on a tree with a beautiful green world all around him. Do you know where thrushes generally live, Peggy? In the sweet country, with flowers and dew-laden grass, and the free, clear air to fly in, with nothing above them but the infinite blue, and other birds to live and play with all day long. That is the world to sing in, and this little fellow was in a smoke-grimed cage about a foot square; he could only see soot and dust and fog, and screaming, quarrelsome men and women, and children who sometimes tried to hit him with stones. Yet he sang his song as merrily and sweetly as any free, country bird. He had a happy heart. And if we have a crippled body, we can have a singing heart." "How?" said Peggy, with big eyes and still bigger thoughts. "By asking Jesus to come into our hearts and make them sing. Have you ever asked Jesus to come into yours, Peggy?" "I prays to Him," said Peggy reflectively; "but I don't expec' He'd care to live in my heart. It ain't fit for Him. Aunt says I be a wicked girl." "However wicked your heart is, it can be washed whiter than snow, Peggy. Jesus will do that if you give your heart to Him. He will make your heart fit to receive Him, and if He 'abides in us,' we are told we shall bring forth much fruit; you will be helped to be good and guarded from evil if Jesus is taking charge of you." "I'd like Him to," said Peggy, with a determined little nod. "Then shall we kneel down here together and ask Him? You speak to Him, Peggy, and remember that He is waiting to hear and answer you." So Peggy bent her head and shut her eyes. "I arsk you, Lord Jesus, to take hold of my heart and wash it, and make it proper; and please come into it and give me a singin' heart, and I gives it up to you like teacher says I ought. And please help me to be good, for I'm awful wicked." There was a little silence in the empty schoolroom. Then Miss Gregory prayed aloud for her little scholar, that she might be kept a true and faithful little follower of her Saviour. And when they rose from their feet, Peggy's face was very sweet and serious. "I'm never goin' to be wicked no more," she asserted. Miss Gregory smiled, then told her to follow her to church; and on the way talked very earnestly to her, trying to make her realise how weak she was in herself, and how strong her Saviour.