"Well, I don't know how it was, but I thought as it 'ud be a fine thing to get new life. So I laid myself back on my pillow and thought it over. But before long I says to him, 'Jem, do you ever pray?' "'Ever?' says he; 'you know I do.' "'Then pray for me,' says I, closing my eyes. "When the grey dawn of morning crept into my room there he was, sitting by me and watching me still. "'Jem,' says I, 'I've come to Jesus. I'm awful bad, but He's said as He'll not cast me out. I've come.' "At that he looked as glad as if I'd left him a fortune. And then he gets up and lights my fire, and warms some gruel his mother had brought for me, and while I was eating it, I says to him, 'Jem,' says I, 'you may have it!' "'Have what?' says he. "'My room,' says I. And that's how it was as I moved up here to make room for you!" Meg had sat spell-bound, listening to the woman's words, her interest in her Jem swallowed up in her greater interest in this soul's struggle from death to life. "Oh, thank you for telling me," she exclaimed at last. But the invalid spoke again. "I've been a selfish woman all my life, and now I've come near the end of it, I'm a selfish old woman still; but my Jesus is going to cure me of that. I tell Him about it every day, and He helps me every day to get the better of it, a little bit." "Oh, Miss Hobson," said Meg, coming close to her, "I do want to get like Jesus too. Will you help me?" "Me, my dear?" "Yes; I'm sure if you want to so much, you can show me how." "_He_ teaches," she answered, "teaches every day." Just as she said these words Mrs. Seymour pushed open the door, and not seeing Meg, said anxiously, "There! Jenny's been and played truant again. Her old father says as her uncle has come and fetched her to spend the day over at Brixton." Then she caught sight of Meg, who hastened to explain why she was there, and her mother-in-law said, "Why, my dear, you've come in my time of need. Do you mean you will work for me as I proposed?" "Yes," answered Meg, "if it would be a comfort to you." Mrs. Seymour looked exceedingly relieved. "Can you come at once?" she asked. "When I have made some bread," answered Meg, "and tidied up a bit." "Bread?" said Mrs. Seymour. Meg smiled. "I'm going to try; and if I succeed I'll bring you a loaf, mother! Please don't think I'm a new broom!" "You're a _nice_ broom!" said her mother-in-law, with rare enthusiasm, "and I'll come down to see you make it one of these days. Dear, dear, can you make bread, to be sure? I've often wished to see it done!" [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER VII. THE EMPTY PAN. It was Saturday, and Meg had plenty to do, so that her mother-in-law's wish to have her at once was a little confusing. When she got down to her own room again her fire was low, her breakfast table untidy, and things less bright and orderly than they had been once since her marriage.