Amy opened her eyes, and, smiling on May, softly murmured, "'We love Him because He first loved us.' * It is so sweet to love the Lord Jesus, and rest on His love; to serve Him now, and then see Him, as I hope to do—very soon." * 1 John iv. 19. There was nothing more said on the subject at that time. May busied herself in carefully separating every fragment of the torn Bible from the rest of the papers which she had brought, putting "the holy words," as she called them, into her bag. Amy intended to stitch them all carefully together, to keep as a treasure, when she should have strength to sort and arrange them. In the meantime, the few verses which she had read to May were as manna for her soul to feed on. In her coarse, faded black print dress, seated at the door of her humble home, with deadly sickness upon her, the cottager's child felt happy and rich; was she not, through redeeming love, an heir of the kingdom of light and glory? Yea, far firmer than the mountains stands the promise of Christ to the lowly believer, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." † † Matt. v. 3. CHAPTER III. A Search. "HOW late father is of coming back," cried Joe, as he entered the cottage, flushed and heated, after a long ramble with his brother. Sunburned little peasants were they, clad in coarse garments which, with their rough wear, gave plenty of work to Amy's thin fingers. "You've been a-clamberin' and scrambling about," observed little May. "Joe, your smock is torn right down the side, and, David, the brim is nigh off your straw hat—a bit o' yer hair is sticking through." "You'll give a stitch or two, and make the old thing hold together!" cried David, tossing the hat to Amy. "It ain't fit for a scarecrow. That rich old Mytton, as father talks on, he'd ha' stared could he ha' seen what his grand-grand-children would ha' come to!" "Oh! That old Mytton, I think he was the man in the moon!" laughed Joe. "I don't believe a word about that big carriage and six grey horses. But I say, what's become of father, I thought he'd ha' been back afore now." "I hope father's sold the wood, or won't he be in a way, and won't we catch it!" cried May. "He was going not only to sell but to buy at the town," observed Amy. "Father promised to get a nice new bit of print for you, May, for I told him I'd mended and patched that frock of yours as long as I could, but that now it's all coming to pieces, let me do what I will, it's so old." "I don't think as how it ever was new!" cried Joe. "You wore it at first yourself as long back as I can remember, Amy." "Ah! There's father coming! I can see him over the common!" exclaimed May eagerly, for the purchase of a new frock was a great event to the child. "And there's no wood left in the cart, I'm glad of that," observed David. "But sure Dobbin must be lame, he's a-going so slow. There's father a-whacking him well; but he don't go much the faster."