“And the people’s sake also. This has been the most beautiful week! People’s hearts are full of joy and gratitude, and there have been a hundred home missionaries among them, seeking to lead them to Jesus, and so make the happiness more real and lasting. I don’t think there has been a Christian man who dared to hold his tongue. I know of many for whom the new life has become an accomplished thing this week.” “I am very glad. And to-morrow afternoon we are to have a Bible-class under the beech-tree here. I hope it will be a class of women only, or chiefly.” “It will be, because Mr. Knight has a meeting for men, and they will all go. The life of the master is more eloquent than his words; but it is a treat to listen to his addresses.” “I hope the desires of his heart will be fully gratified, and that he will never be disappointed in this place.” “Oh, he never will be, surely! for God’s blessing will be upon such an enterprise. How many changed lives there are among us! And my own is the most changed of all. I have been thinking of the Sunday when you first took me into your room, and talked with me, after I had offered up my first prayer. I sometimes can scarcely think that I am I, so wonderfully different is my whole life. And how much I owe to you, my own dear friend. You have taught me what real religion is; and I am so happy that no words can express my joy and thankfulness.” Miss Wythburn caressed the girl, whose voice faltered with emotion, and her eyes grew dim with tears. “God has been very gracious to us both, and all,” she said, “and we must show our gratitude by making other people as happy as we are. I wish we could have all the East-end of London here with us.” “I am afraid I am glad we cannot,” said Fanny; “but I will not be selfish. That would be too wicked.” Fanny thought of her own words half an hour later. She had said good-night to Mary, and had turned at her own door, to take a last look at the fading sunset, when a hand was laid upon her arm, and a voice that seemed to bring Paradise grove back upon the scene said, “Is there any room for me here?” Fanny turned, with a flush of anger on her face, and looked into the eyes of Andromeda Jones. “No,” she said. “You have no right here. You are not one of Mr. Knight’s workpeople. Go away!” “Don’t send me away, Fan. Think of what you used to be, and have some pity for me. I am sick of the old life. I have walked all the way from London because I want to be good, and have a home, and be saved like you are.” And poor Drom’s voice died away in a sob. “There is no room here for you,” said Fanny, endeavouring to disregard the words which still lingered in her ears. She did not want to pass on to this interloper the good which she valued so highly. “No room? It is a wide place, and not crowded,” said Drom. “I am very tired, for the way was long and dreary. You cannot mean that you will not take me in after all? You have not been served so yourself, Fanny.”