"We have an empty room at the top of the house," said Mr. Robin, "where you may sleep, and we'll put a mattress for you to lie on, if you'll do two things to please us, and if you'll keep your word about them. First, you must promise me you'll never go into the old church again—if you do, we shall feel it our duty to tell of you; and next, you must let me put that lying board of yours at the back of the fire. If you'll do those two things, old Joe, we'll give you a shelter and welcome." "And you'll not tell of me?" said the old man. "Not as long as you keep your word," said Mr. Robin. So old Joe stayed on. His illness seemed to have been brought on by exposure and by want, and after a few days' quiet, he seemed almost himself again. Then he was never to be seen in the daytime, for wet or fine, he went to play under the railway-bridge; and he found that he received quite as many pence as he had done when he had that lying board round his neck. But in the evening, just as it was growing dark, he climbed over the wall on the opposite side of the churchyard, and came creeping through the graves up to Granny Robin's window. Here he rapped three times, and when they had let him in, they took him to the kitchen fire, that he might warm himself before going up to bed. Audrey and Stephen would often come in to talk to him, as he sat holding his thin, wrinkled hands to the blaze. Audrey felt him her special charge, and often said that Old Joe belonged to her, for she had found him first. "How was it we only saw your light on Sunday?" she asked him one day. "Because I was in earlier that night," he said. "I came later on week nights; I was afraid of folks seeing me; but I didn't think as anybody would be about the old church of a Sunday night." "I'm so sorry for you, old Joe," said little Stephen, laying his small hand on the shrivelled one of the old man. "I wonder if you are one of the Children of Light?" "I'm afraid he's not," said Audrey gravely. "Oh, but you must be!" said little Stephen. "You'll be so happy if you are." "I never heard tell of them," said old Joe. "They are the people who belong to Jesus," said Stephen; "and He will make you one of them if you ask Him. Will you ask Him, old Joe?" "I've been a bad, wicked old man," said Joe. "I don't suppose He would have anything to do with such as me." "But He loves you," said little Stephen—"doesn't He, Audrey? And He died for you, old Joe. Won't you ask Him to take you into the Kingdom of Light?" "I haven't said a prayer since I was a little lad and went to Sunday-school," said old Joe—"not for sixty years or more. It's too late for me to begin now." "No, it isn't too late," said Audrey. "It's never too late to begin to pray." "You must begin to-night, old Joe," said Stephen. "Put your hands together—so—now say after me, 'O Lord, take my sin away, and make me a Child of Light. Amen.' You can remember that prayer—can't you, old Joe?" "I think I can," said the old man.