"I'll take 'im right away up to the attic if ye like," the woman went on, "and then," indicating Cherry by a movement of her hand, "she won't hear nor see nothink." The man shook his head. "One thing, she do keep 'im quiet when we don't want 'im. And if she makes a fuss I'll find a way to shut 'er mouth; that I will, don't yer fear." Cherry lay and quaked. Well she knew all that was implied in this low-toned conversation, both towards her little brother and herself. But she too had seen, as by a flash, another scene. A woman on a dying bed, whispering with an earnestness which impressed every word on her child's memory, "Cherry, if you're in any trouble, tell Jesus--ask Him to help you. Oh, Cherry, if I did not know you love Him, my heart would break. Jesus, will help you. Tell Dickie that I always said that." Cherry thought of it now, at first with a hopeless feeling that things had been so bad for so long that she feared Jesus did not hear; and then with a rebound she determined never to give up what her beloved and dying mother had bequeathed to her. "She always spoke true," she thought, with a sudden lightening of her terrible burden, and her head nestled against Dickie's with a certain dim belief that rescue of some sort would come some day. The crowded inhabitants of the room had one by one sunk into slumber; even her father had ceased tossing about and swearing at all around him. Still Cherry lay broad awake, thinking over all the events of the last year, and remembering now with a sort of awe how she _had_ called upon her Lord Jesus last May, when things had been so dreadfully bad with little Dickie, and how He had heard her, and had sent Dickie a long and dangerous illness, which had made him quite unable to be taken out on hire with old Sairy as heretofore. She remembered now with thankfulness, though she had not looked upon it as the answer at the time, that somehow the kind carpenter who had been repairing their wretched room had taken notice of Dickie, and had given him a blanket and some grapes, and how his wife had brought him many a nice meal from their table. Cherry's life was so hard that she had taken all that happened, both bad and good, with a sort of apathy; but to-night it all came over her afresh, and she realized that this had perhaps been the way her Lord Jesus had answered her despairing prayer for little Dickie. Then she would pray again; and this time instead of asking only for him to be taken away from the cruel woman everybody called "old Sairy," she would pray that he might have a nice home, and love and care. Cherry did not say those words, but in her simple language she asked what she wanted, and after that, with a strange sense of the burden lifted on to shoulders which were very strong, she closed her eyes and at last fell asleep.