When Peggy reached home, and sat down to the luxury of a mutton chop with her aunt, she began to think how she could pass on what she had heard. It was very difficult. Mrs. Perkins was more discontented on Sunday than any other day in the week. She had time for airing her grievances, and her tongue certainly never had a Sabbath's rest, if her hands had. "Aunt," said Peggy at length, bringing out her words with a jerk, "do you ever feel like singing?" "Are you givin' me some of yer imperence?" was the angry retort. "Oh no, I ain't a-goin' to sauce yer! Teacher, was a-tellin' me of a sick body havin' a singin' heart." "I dessay," Mrs. Perkins said scornfully. "Let yer teacher wait till she has a sick body, and then let her sing!" "I 'spect she would," said Peggy thoughtfully. "She says how you does it is to ask Jesus to come into your heart, and He'll make it sing." Mrs. Perkins gave a contemptuous snort. Peggy gained courage, and proceeded— "I was arskin' her if sick folk that couldn't be cured by doctors could be done any good to, and she says, 'Yes, their hearts could be made well and sound and 'appy. It sounds cheerful like, don't it? I thought as 'ow you'd like to hear it." "Much obliged," said Mrs. Perkins sarcastically. There was silence. The meal was finished. Peggy washed up and tidied the room. Her aunt lay back in her bed, and appeared to be studying a Sunday paper. But suddenly Peggy heard her give a little cry. "That there pain agen! Oh for! Whatever shall I do? 'Tis a-takin' hold o' my inside, like a lobster's claws!" "I'll get the gin," said Peggy. But her aunt would have none of it. She moaned and cried, and then began to talk incoherently. "'Tis nay 'eart, I know 'tis, and I shall be dead before long. A 'appy heart! Ay, 'tis fine talkin'! Singin'! I mind in Sunday School I could sing the 'eartiest o' them. How does it go? "'Oh for a 'eart to praise my God, A 'eart from sin set free. A 'eart that's sprinkled with the blood So freely shed for me.' "What do you say, Peg, about the love o' God? Oh lor! Oh, fetch the doctor, quick, quick!" A spasm of agony seemed to pass over her. Peggy rushed from the room. "Mrs. Jones!" she shouted at that good woman's door. "Go to aunt. She be mortal bad! I'm off for the doctor." It was not long before she was back again with the young practitioner who lived not far away. But Mrs. Perkins was already beyond all human aid, and Peggy for the first time in her life realised what an awfully sudden and unexpected messenger Death may sometimes be. CHAPTER III "I'M READY FOR MY PLACE" THE next few days were dark and bewildering ones to Peggy. Mrs. Jones proved a friend in need. She took her to her room at once and mothered her as she had never been mothered before. Peggy was grateful, but she was not comforted till she paid a visit to Mrs. Creak.