By and by she leaned over the kettle to put in some salt, and as she sprinkled it around she caught his eager, longing look. She nodded her head. "I guess He heard," she said softly. "I _know_ He did," Tip answered, his eyes very blight; in his heart he sang "_Glory!_" And the angels in heaven sang for joy; for that night there had been laid aside a white robe and a crown of gold for Kitty Lewis. CHAPTER XVI. "Whosoever therefore shall confess Me before men, him will I confess also before My Father which is in heaven." Tip was very undecided what to do. He went out on the steps and looked about him in the moonlight; then he came in and took a long look out of the window. At last the question, whatever it was, seemed to be settled. He turned with a resolute air to Kitty who was washing the tea-dishes. "Kitty, don't you want to go to prayer-meeting up at the church?" Kitty dropped her cup back into the dish-pan and stood looking at him, a good deal surprised. At last she said,-- "I'd like to, Tip, but I don't look decent to go anywhere. I've only this dress and my old hood." "I wouldn't mind that," said Tip. "I've only this awful old jacket either, but I mean to go. Hurry up the dishes, and let's go." "Well," said Kitty at last, "I _will_; but what will mother say?" "I'll fix that." And Tip stepped softly into the bedroom. "Are you better to-night, father?" "Not much better, I guess. How's arithmetic to-day?" "First-rate; Mr. Burrows said I was getting ahead fast. Mother, may Kitty go out with me to-night? I'm going up to the church to prayer-meeting." Mrs. Lewis turned from the basket where she had been hunting long, and as yet in vain, for a piece of flannel, and bent a searching bewildered look on her son. "I don't care," she said at last; "she can go if she likes; but I doubt if she will." She _did_, however; in ten minutes more the two were walking along the snowy path. Kitty was sober. "Tip," she said presently, "don't you never get real awful _mad_, so mad that you feel as if you'd choke if you couldn't speak right out at somebody?" "Well, no," said Tip, "not often. Yes, I do too; I get mad at Bob Turner sometimes, mad enough to pitch him into a snow-bank; but it don't last long." "Well, mine does," said Kitty. "I begin in the morning; something makes me cross, and I keep on getting crosser and crosser every minute, till it seems as if I should fly. Do you suppose I'll always do just so?" "No," answered Tip positively, "I _don't_. You keep on trying a little bit harder every day, and by and by you'll find that you don't get cross more than half as easy as you used to. I know it will be so, because I've tried it in other things: when I first began to behave myself in school, it was the _hardest_ work--my! You can think how I wanted to whisper, and things kept happening all the time to make me laugh, but I just kept trying, and now I hardly ever think of whispering. Kitty, does mother know?"