"See; there is lightning, Harry," she said. "There is going to be a storm. Oh, how glad I am that our darling Kit is safe beneath our roof to-night! You should have seen her, how she snugged down in the little crib between the clean sheets, and in a few minutes fell asleep. I suppose she has not been in so comfortable a bed since she left me. Poor lamb; what a life hers must have been! I cannot bear to think of it now." "Yes; thank God little Kit is safe," replied the father; "but we must be very careful with her, she looks so tender, and be sure you don't over-feed her at first, wife, she has had but scanty fare and can't stand much yet. Where have you put Ben?" "In the little room; I had a trouble at first to get her to sleep away from him, they've always been together, but she was so worn out that she fell 'over' while I was talking. Before she lay down she put her hands together and said her little prayer that Ben had taught her; something like this it began:-- "Jesus, Lord, we come before Thee, Much we need Thy tender care, He has been a good boy to her, and his heart seems set on her. We must do what we can for him." "Ay, wife, while we have a crust he'll share it," and Harry Gray drew his hand across his eyes. "Ah! what a flash!" cried Mrs. Gray, holding her breath, as the whole heavens were lighted up. Then followed a tremendous peal of thunder and some heavy drops of rain. They rose and went into the cottage after this, and the mother, giving baby Harry to his father, ran up to look again at little Kit, who opened her eyes, wakened by the heavy peal of thunder. Little Kit had been separated from her parents for more than three years owing to the cruel neglect of her aunt, Mrs. Rogers, to whose care she had been committed by her mother during a severe illness, and the little girl had lived a life of want and hardship since. The Grays had tried to find Kit, but Mrs. Rogers removed from one place to another, and at last they thought she had left the country. She had married an idle drunken fellow who had brought her to extreme poverty, and after she had obtained charge of Kit had gone from bad to worse, and exposed the delicate little baby in the London streets in order to gain money, then, fearing to be discovered, had hidden the child from her parents, in one of the slums of London. Some months before the children's treat Mrs. Rogers had died, and the little girl would have perished from want had not Ben Rogers, her cousin--a boy of nine or ten years--cared for her and loved her, and by selling matches earned a bare living for them both. The man, Rogers, allowed them to use the room he slept in, but beyond this had taken little notice of the children until a few weeks before the treat, when, during a slight illness, Kit's pretty little prattle about the Lord Jesus had touched his heart, and caused him to feel more kindly towards the little girl.