"You hear what your grandson says, Mrs. Bell. Is his accusation true?" "It be none of your business, whether or no," returned the woman, with a scowl. "Ah, but it is my business. God sent me here to convert sinners, and without you listen to the message of mercy he sends to you through me, I fear, at your advanced age, that you will find yourself in a very bad way. How old are you?" "Eighty-four." "So old, and no nearer heaven. Why, my poor old friend, you have no reasonable expectation to live one day beyond another." "I shan't die the sooner for your saying so." "Nor live one day the longer--both casualties are in the hands of God. Do you ever pray?" "I never was taught a prayer." "Shall I pray with you?" "Just as you please." "Well, I do please. But first listen for a few minutes to the Word of God." He read several of those remarkable invitations to sinners, which few can hear for the first time unmoved, and then knelt down beside the old reprobate, and prayed so earnestly for God to touch her heart, and lead her to repentance, that her hard nature seemed humbled by his eloquence. When he rose to go, to his infinite surprise and joy the boy stole to his side. "Oh, sir, are you _sure_ that those awful words you read to Granny are true?" "Yes, my son, God's truth." "And will he save a bad boy like me?" "Certainly, if you repent, and seek him with all your heart and soul. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from all sin." "And will you come again, and teach me how to love Him and pray to Him?" "Yes, with pleasure. Can you read?" "No, sir." "Come to Storby Sunday-school, and I will teach you." "That I will, right gladly. But, oh, sir, I know that I have been a very wicked boy." "So are all men who live without God in the world. If you wish really to lead a new life, begin by leaving off swearing, and treat your old grandmother more respectfully. It may please God to make you an instrument in His hands for her conversion." "I will try," said the lad. "Oh, I be glad, glad, that you came to the house." Mr. Fitzmorris was glad too, or his face belied him. He slipped a few pieces of silver into the old woman's hand, to procure her some tea and sugar, and went on his way rejoicing. "See, my dear young friend," he said to Dorothy, when they were once more on their road home, "how rich a harvest God often reaps from the most unpromising fields. The seed sown in that boy's heart may yet bear fruit for heaven." CHAPTER VIII. DOROTHY'S FIRST LETTER. Dorothy formed many plans for future usefulness during her walk home, nor had she the least suspicion of the different field in which her labours of love would be required.