"Now don't 'ee say so, my dear, with your pretty young face a-longin' for a bright bow of ribbon in your cap. Look at this piece o' blue, three yards for sevenpence. Why, 'tis givin' it away. Ah, I see you're a sensible girl; you don't care for finery. Now I dessay I have a book or two that may take your fancy; or a pictur' now. Look at this one. A religious one this is, very sootable for a bedroom." "'Tis Christ knockin' at the door," said Peggy, with a pleased nod. "'Well, I s'pose it is; only one shillin' and sixpence. Why, He be worth more nor that, hain't He?" Peggy frowned at his chuckle that followed. "'Tis Jesus Christ you be speakin' of. And that's our soul He's a-knockin' at." "'Tisn't mine," said the old man; "I don't deal in such harticles. I hain't got no soul—don't believe in 'em." Peggy stood gazing at him with horror. "You was born with one," she said; "what have you been and done with it?" He rubbed his head and looked at her with a curious sort of smile. "What have you done wi' yours?" he demanded. Peggy's voice hushed. "I giv' it to the Lord Jesus. Teacher taught me how at Sunday School." There was a little silence, then Peggy saw her opportunity and seized it. "My missus told me there were some souls 'sick unto death.' Maybe yours is—nearly dead, but not quite." "Wery likely," was the amused retort. "Wouldn't you like it made alive agen?" Such a flash of light lit up Peggy's plain little face as she asked this question that an answering gleam played across the old pedlar's. "How's it to be done?" he asked. Peggy pointed to the picture. "Ask Him to come into it. If He lives in it, He'll make it alive agen; missus said so." "Oh, ay," said the old man; but a long-drawn sigh escaped him. "Well, good-day, missy, as ye won't buy nothin'." But Peggy seized hold of him by the lappet of his coat and detained him. "But look 'ere, you just do it! I'm a-tellin' you of a cure for your soul. Don't you go away without a-listenin'. I'm a-tryin' to be a missionary at 'ome, I am, and you've a splendid one to talk to, almost as good as a 'eathen. You listen! I ain't goin' to let yer go. Do you mind the girl in the Bible who sent her master, the leper capting, to be cured? I'm a-goin' to send you, and you'll 'ave to go. 'Course you will. Who'd stay with a sick, dead soul, if they could get it made alive agen? You go, do yer hear me?" "Oh ay, bless the girl, what a tongue she has! Make a fine preacher one o' those days." A bell rang, and Peggy know she must answer it. "Goodbye," she said, with disappointment in her tone. "But I say, mister, if you go and get your soul cured, you come back and tell me." "Ay, that I will." The pedlar departed shaking his head; and so ended Peggy's first sermon. She was very silent all that day thinking about it.