Tip went home with his brain full of new thoughts. No, he didn't go home; he only went as far as the elm-tree, and there he sat down and read what Mr. Holbrook had marked in his Bible. Yes, that was just the way in which he had been praying for Kitty; and it was certainly true, as Mr. Holbrook had said, nothing could surprise him more than that Kitty should really and truly come to Jesus. Before he went from under the tree that day, he prayed this prayer: "O God, teach me to believe that you will make Kitty love Jesus, and show me how to help her." After this, of course he looked out for his chances in which to work, and of course he found them,--found one that very day. After dinner Kitty wandered off by herself. Tip watched her, and she took the road leading to the cemetery. God put it into his heart to hurry after her; so, when he came up to her, where she sat, on a large stone which she had rolled very near to Johnny's grave, his heart was beating at the thought of the great work which he had to do. "What did _you_ come for?" said Kitty, looking up. Tip hesitated a minute, then told the plain truth. "I came after you." "I suppose I know that: you didn't come before me." "I mean I came to _see_ you." "Well, look at me, then, and go off; I don't want you here." Clearly, whatever was to be said must be said quickly, and Tip's heart was very full of its message, so his voice was tender: "Oh, Kitty, I came to ask you if you _wouldn't_ be a Christian. I _do_ want it so, it seems as if I couldn't wait." Kitty looked steadily and gravely at her brother. "What do you mean by 'be a Christian?'" she asked at last. "I mean love Jesus, and do as He says." "What'll I love Him for?" "'Cause you can't help it, when you find out how much He loves you, and all the things He does for you." "What does He say do?" "He says be good; try to do right things all the time." Kitty's eyes flashed. "Now, ain't you mean," she said angrily, "to come and tell me such things, when you know I ain't good, and _can't_ be good? Isn't mother ugly and cross and scolding to me all the time? and don't I have to work and work, _always_, and never have anything? And I'm cross and get mad, and I _will_, too. I can't help it." "Oh, but, Kitty," Tip interrupted eagerly, "you don't know about it! He helps you, Jesus does. When anything is the matter, when you feel cross and bad, you just go and kneel down and tell Him all about it, and He helps you every time. And up in heaven, where you can go when you die, nobody ever gets cross and scolds. And it's beautiful there: they sing, and have fountains, and wear gold crowns; and--and Johnny is there, you know; and I'm going, and I _do_ want you to come along."