twice, and
that in the great crises of maternity, fall from woman's
lips--'Amanda, speyk. Tell him what's botherin' thee.'

But the girl was silent.

Mr. Penrose was silent also, and nothing was heard in the room
save the tremulous beat of an old watch that hung over the
chimney-shelf--one of the memorials of a husband and father long
since taken, and now almost forgotten.

At last Amanda, without turning her face towards the pastor, said:

'Sir, I'm a sinner--a lost sinner.'

'No, you are not,' replied Mr. Penrose.

And overawed and astonished with the boldness of his statement, he
relapsed into silence.

Amanda turned and looked at him clearly and unflinchingly, and
cried:

'How dare yo' say that?'

'Because you've repented,' was the quiet reply.

'Haa do yo' know I've repented?'

'Because repentance is to come home; and you've come home, have
you not?'

'Repentance is to come wom'?' slowly repeated the girl, as though
some ray of light was penetrating the darkness. 'Repentance is to
come wom', sen yo'?'

'Yes.'

And then Mr. Penrose repeated the words: 'And he arose and came to
his home; and when he was a great way off his father saw him and
ran, and fell on his neck and kissed him.'

'Aw dare say; that's what mi mother did to me on th' neet I come
wom'. But mi mother's noan God, is hoo?'

'No; but if you had had no God, you could not have had a mother.
You tell me your mother kissed you. Did you not feel God's kiss in
that which your mother gave you?'

The girl shook her head; the pastor needed to make his message
more plain.

'It's in this way, you know,' continued Mr. Penrose. 'If there
were no rain in the heavens there would be no springs in the
valleys, would there? The well is filled because the clouds send
down their showers; and so it is with love. Your mother's heart is
full of love because God, who Himself is love, fills it. Your
mother stands to you for God, and she is most like God when she is
doing most for you; and when she kissed you and took you back
again home, she was only doing what God made her do, and what God
did Himself to you through her.'

'But theer's summat else beside forgiveness, Mr. Penrose. I feel
I've lost summat as I con never ged agen. I know I've getten back
wom', but I haven't getten back what awv' lost.'

'You may have it back, though, if it's worth having back. There
was One who came to seek that which was lost. You are like the
woman who lost one o