'That's how she looked when she was dead,' he said; 'would you like to see my ladybird as she was when she was alive and well, and I was a strong man able to work for her?' 'Yes--oh yes,' said Phyllis. He led the way into the pearly room, and drew back a green curtain that hung there. Phyllis caught her breath sharply, and tears pricked her eyes. Not because the picture was a sad one--ah, no! not that! As the curtain was withdrawn the figure of a child seemed to spring towards them from the canvas--a happy, laughing child, her arms full of roses, her face full of health and beauty and the joy of life; a child whose glad, unclouded eyes met Phyllis's in a free, joyous look. 'Oh no!' cried Phyllis; 'she can't be dead--she _can't_!' The old man took her in his arms, for she was crying bitterly. 'Thank you--thank you, dear,' he said, soothing her. 'Now I know that you are the right person to help me.' 'I? Help _you_?' Phyllis's tears began to dry at the beautiful thought, but she still sobbed. 'Don't cry,' he said, and gently drew the green curtain over the lovely laughing face. 'Don't cry. I want to tell you of many things. When that money came--I've told you when--as soon as I could see or think again, I saw what I ought to do. Ever since I've not spent a penny of that money on myself--on anything but the plainest food, the plainest clothes. If I've made the house beautiful for her picture to live in, it's been with my own work. All the rest of the money has gone to help little girls whose fathers can't work for them--little girls that can be saved, as my little girl could have been saved. That's the work I want you to carry on for me when you grow up. Will you promise?' 'Yes,' said Phyllis; 'only I'm very stupid.' 'I will have you taught. You shall learn how to do my work. Ask your father to come and see me. And now, good-bye. Perhaps I shan't see you again. Will you always remember that your Christmas-tree came to me like a light in a dark night to show me that there was someone still who cared to be kind.... Good-bye.' Father, when he heard the story, almost thought that Phyllis was dreaming. But he went to the Grotto, and when he came back his face was very sad. 'It is a very great honour for you, Phyllis,' he said gravely. 'Are you sure that you understand how much hard work it will mean?' 'I don't mind hard work,' said Phyllis, 'if only I can do what he wants.' So Phyllis is learning many things and preparing for the great work that has so wonderfully come to her. I think she will do it well, because she is not at all stupid really, and she has the gift of being sorry for sad people, and happy with happy ones. I think Sir Christopher chose well.