Lucy Lee laid her head on her pillow and, looking through the silence and darkness, smiled up to God. She had won her first soul for Him, and now made her offering. The capture was not a drunkard, nor an outcast--many of whom, in years to come, she was to wrestle over and deliver--but her own sister, whose golden hair lay over the pillow beside her, and whose regular breathing told that she was fast asleep. Nothing did Lucy imagine of the blessing to thousands of souls that was to flow from that night's work. She was happy in the consciousness that she had been faithful to the heavenly vision, and that now she and her sister were one in the experience of Salvation. How Lucy loved her! Her mind ran back over the thirteen years since a baby sister came into her life. She remembered the rapture she felt, when sitting upon her mother's bed, the nurse placed the baby in her arms. She was five years old then, and soon her small arms ached and her legs were cramped, but again and again she pleaded to hold her treasure just a little longer. She had been allowed to name the baby, and had called her Kate. What a frail, sweet little child she had grown! When Kate was six years old their father died. Lucy recalled moving from their nice house in Hornsey Rise--a suburb of nearer London--to a smaller home; her start at business; and then, the great event that changed the course of life for both the girls. One Sunday evening, after her mother and Kate had gone to chapel, Lucy had been keeping her brother company in the front room, when a burst of song in the street drew her to the window, and she saw a small procession of about twenty people go singing down the road, the leader waving an umbrella. Not staying to consider, she put on her hat and followed the march. It turned into a hall, which was already full of people, but Lucy slipped in at the back and stood. The meeting began with 'There is a Fountain filled with Blood.' The girl was fascinated with the message given in song and testimony, until, suddenly remembering that her mother would have returned home and be anxious at her absence, she hurried away. During the following week her mind was full of the strange street-singers. She made inquiries about them, and heard that they were Salvationists; 'good people, but very queer.' In her heart, the words-- I do believe, I will believe That Jesus died for me; That on the cross He shed His Blood, From sin to set me free! sang themselves over and over and over again.