"And He said He would if you asked Him, Master Treffy; didn't He?" "Ay, Christie, I believe He did," said Treffy. "Then of course He _has_ done it," said Christie. "I don't know, Christie, boy; I can't feel it," said old Treffy pitifully. "I don't seem to see it as I ought." So, whilst Christie was walking in the sunshine, Old Treffy was still groping on in the shadow, sometimes hoping, sometimes fearing, but never trusting. Christie paid another visit to the suburban road that week. Little Mabel and her mother were coming out of the house when Christie reached the gate. The little girl ran eagerly forward when she caught sight of the organ and begged her mamma to stay whilst she turned the handle just six times! The lady spoke very kindly to Christie; she asked him several questions, and he told her about old Treffy, how ill he was, and how he had not another month to live. The tears were in the lady's eyes, and she asked Christie where he lived, and wrote it down on a white tablet which she carried in her pocket. "Mamma," said little Mabel, "I want to whisper something to you." The lady bent down her head to listen, and then said kindly,-- "Yes, if you like." Mabel darted into the house, and returned with a large bunch of single white snowdrops, prettily arranged with sprigs of dark myrtle leaves. Very white, and pure, and lovely they looked. "Here, organ-boy," said Mabel, as she put them into his hands, "these are my own dear snowdrops; Aunt Helen gave me them, and you must take them to Master Treffy, he'll like them, won't he?" she said. "Ay! that he will, missie," said Christie, warmly. "Mabel," said her mother, "you must teach Christie the little prayer I told you always to say when you looked at the snowdrops." "Yes," said Mabel, "I will. This is it, Christie: 'Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.'" Christie looked up brightly. "Will you say that prayer, Christie?" asked the lady, kindly. "Yes, ma'am," said Christie; "it's just like what me and Master Treffy said last night:-- 'Cleanse me and save me, Cleanse me and save me, Wash all my sins away.'" The lady smiled when Christie said this, and seemed very pleased. "I am so glad you know of the only way to be washed white," said the lady. "These snowdrops always make me think of the souls washed white in the blood of Jesus." Then the lady and little Mabel passed on, and Christie looked down very tenderly on the flowers. How he _would_ love them now! He turned his steps homewards at once, for he did not want the snowdrops to fade before they reached old Treffy. How fair, and clean, and pure they looked! So different to the smoke and dirt of the noisy court. Christie was almost afraid lest the thick air might soil them as he carried them through it. Some of the children ran after him and begged for a flower, but he guarded his treasures very carefully till he reached the attic.