"If I can do anythink, sir, to make you better, I would," persisted Peggy, regarding him with anxious, earnest eyes. "I'm afraid you can't," was the amused rejoinder, "unless you can give me a new inside. India ruins a man's digestion, and plays the dickens with him generally!" Peggy's blue eyes fairly sparkled with delight. "Oh, please sir, I knows who will make you new inside. I knows the very One. Please, sir, may I tell you?" Without waiting for a reply, she went on— "'Tis the Lord Jesus, sir. He says He'll give us new hearts if we ask of Him. If you go to Him, please sir, He'll make your heart quite well. He will, indeed, for I knows heaps o' people that have had their hearts put right, and I has myself, sir, for I give it into His hands, and He done it. Please, sir, you'll excuse my mentionin' it, but I should like you to get well, and it do seem as if you've got the right illness to be cured. 'Tis just the inside on us that the Lord can cure. For the Bible says, 'A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you.'" She paused for breath, and Captain D'Arcy was so taken aback, that he remained quite silent. Peggy had said her say and withdrew, excited and trembling at her audacity. "You've done it, Peggy. You've tolded him where to go, and 'tis his sick heart that be makin' his body bad—he telled me so. Oh, I does hope he'll go and be cured—I does, indeed!" But not a word did she say of her interview to the servants in the kitchen. She kept her own counsel. She had had her opportunity and she used it. "I'm as good as the girl in the Bible, now," she said to herself, with a happy sigh. "She telled a sick capting who would cure him, and I've done it too. I can't do no more. I wonder if he'll go." "Aunt Alice," said Captain D'Arcy that afternoon. "You have an extraordinary specimen of a maid in your household." "You must mean Peggy," said Mrs. Dale smiling. "I daresay she does look queer, but she is a rough diamond, Harry. She is a true, faithful little soul, who puts her heart into her work. She is not my servant really, but I am taking her to oblige some friends whilst they are away. Do you remember a Mr. Churchhill, a clergyman in the East End? I used to work with him many years ago." "I remember two little girls, when I was a very small boy, coming to tea with you once. Joy, or Joyce, one of them was called. She and I vowed perpetual friendship, or something of the sort. Where are they now?" "The father died quite recently, and they are left very badly off, I am afraid. They took a small cottage in the country, and had Peggy as their maid. I was lodging in a farmhouse near them this summer, so renewed my acquaintance with them. They are at Bournemouth now, for Helen Churchhill has been ill and wanted a change of air. They shut up their cottage, and I promised to take charge of Peggy meanwhile." "Is she by way of being a saint or a simpleton?" asked Captain D'Arcy languidly.