ty?" says Miss Lloyd.

'"I should tell you, ma'am," says Betty "that if you had trusted your
ring to Mr. Lloyd, it was as safe as safe could be, and it was an insult
to him to doubt it."

'"Betty," says Miss Lloyd, "you're quite right; and that's just what I
feel about the Lord Jesus. I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded
that He is able to keep that soul which I have committed unto Him."'

'Well,' said grandmother, 'it seems all right when you put it like that,
and I wish I was as happy as you are, my dear;--but I'm a
good-for-nothing old woman, I am indeed, and somehow I'm afraid He
wouldn't do it for me.'

'Poppy,' said her mother, 'do you think you could find me a Mission
Hymn-book?'

'Yes, mother,' said Poppy; 'here's one on the table.' The poor woman
turned over the leaves with trembling fingers, for she was very weak and
tired.

'Poppy, dear,' she said, when she had found the place, 'read this hymn
to grandmother.'

And Poppy read:

'Jesus, I will trust Thee, trust Thee with my soul!
Guilty, lost, and helpless, Thou canst make me whole.
There is none in heaven or on earth like Thee;
Thou hast died for sinners--therefore, Lord, for me.
Jesus, I do trust Thee, trust without a doubt,
Whosoever cometh Thou wilt not cast out:
Faithful is Thy promise, precious is Thy blood--
These my soul's salvation, Thou my Saviour God!'

'Oh, grandmother, and oh, Poppy,' she said, when the child had finished
reading, 'trust your soul to Jesus _to-night_.'

[Illustration]

'Well, my dear, I will,' said poor old grandmother, wiping her eyes.

'And you, my own little Poppy?'

'Yes, dear mother,' said the child; 'I won't forget.'

CHAPTER XII.

THE WONDERFUL FIRE.

'Polly, my dear,' said grandmother the next day, as she was washing the
babies, 'I didn't forget what you asked me to do last night; but I'm
afraid, my dear, I'm very much afraid.'

'What are you afraid of, granny?' asked Poppy's mother.

'Why, I'm afraid of getting cold and hard again, my dear,' she said;
'it's all very well for Poppy, but I've been putting off so long, I'm
afraid of slipping into all the bad, old ways again. Why, my dear, I've
tried to pray and to read my Bible scores of times before, but my mind
has soon gone a-wandering away to my chickens, or to my butter or to
the bit of washing I do for the Hall, and all such like things. Now, my
dear, how do I know it won't be lik