er the great storm
three weeks since, and she sent for me to come into the kitchen. Well
may I bless her angel face, poor thing!--if the world is dark to her she
makes it light to other folks. She cannot see heaven's sunshine outside,
but she's better off than most people, for she's got it in her, I do
believe, and when she smiles it lets the glory out, and looks like God's
rainbow in the clouds. She's done me many a kindness since I got hurt so
bad in her father's store, now five years gone; and she sent for me that
day, to ask how I did, and if there was anything I wanted that she could
speak to the master about. So I told her all about little Gerty; and, I
tell you, she and I both cried 'fore I'd done. She put some money into
my hand, and told me to get Mrs. Sullivan to make some clothes for
Gerty; more than that, she promised to help me if I got into trouble
with the care of her; and when I was going away, she said, 'I'm sure
you've done quite right, True; the Lord will bless and reward your
kindness to that poor child.'"

True was so excited that he did not notice what the Sexton had observed.
Gerty had risen from her bed and was standing beside True, her eyes
fixed upon his face, breathless with the interest she felt in his words.
She touched his shoulder; he looked round, saw her, and stretched out
his arms. She sprang into them, buried her face in his bosom, and,
bursting into tears, exclaimed, "Shall I stay with you always?"

"Yes, just as long as I live," said True, "you shall be my child."

CHAPTER IV.

FIRST STEPS TO IMPROVEMENT.

It was a stormy evening. Gerty was standing at the window, watching for
True's returning from his lamplighting. She was neatly dressed, her hair
smooth, her face and hands clean. She was now quite well--better than
for years before her sickness; a pale, slender-looking child, with eyes
and mouth disproportionately large to her other features; her look of
suffering had given place to a happy though rather grave expression. On
the wide window-sill in front of her sat a plump and venerable cat,
parent to Gerty's lost darling, and for that reason very dear to her;
she was quietly stroking its back, while the constant purring that the
old veteran kept up proved her satisfaction at the arrangement.

Suddenly a rumbling, tumbling sound was heard in the wall. The house was
old, and furnished with ample accommodation for rats. One would have
thought a chimney was falling brick