us some water quick, I'm parched!"

On another day Jeffreys heard the rest.

"I came up to London, but it wasn't the fun I expected. Everybody I met
I thought was a detective, and all night long I dreamed of my mother. I
tried to drown it, and lived as wild a life as you like till my money
was done. Then it would have been worth your while to see me.
Everybody was against me. Fellows I'd stood treat to kicked me out into
the street, and fellows who owed me money laughed in my face. I thought
I'd go back to York after all and get mother to take me back; but when I
came to start I couldn't face it. That's all. I stood it as long as I
could. I pawned everything, and when that was done I stole--and got
three months on the treadmill. How do you like that? When I got out, a
city missionary heard of me and found me a job; but I stole again, and
ran away. You wouldn't have thought I had it in me at York, would you?
I was a respectable young fellow there. But it was all there; and it
was you brought it all out. Last week I made up my mind to put an end
to it all. It took me a struggle to face it; but I was settled to do
it--and then, as if you hadn't done enough harm, you come and spoil my
last chance."

"Not your last chance, Jonah."

"No. I've a week more to live. Then you'll be rid of me. Who's to
save me then?"

"Some one, Jonah. We have both forgotten Him, but He's not forgotten
us."

"Oh yes, I know," said Jonah; "but it's all very well for you, who've
got years to get right in. It's too short notice for me to begin all
that over again. I don't want to hear about it."

He lingered on day after day, and it was absolutely necessary for
Jeffreys to go and seek work in order to keep even that wretched roof
above their heads.

One evening when he returned with a few coppers, Jonah met him with a
face brighter than any that he had yet seen.

"I've had some one here to-day. A better sort than you. One that's got
a right to talk about what's better. A lady, John, or else an angel.
Did _you_ send her?"

"I? No; I know no ladies."

"I don't know how it was, I could tell her anything--and, I say, John,
it would make you cry to hear her voice. It did me. _You_ never made
me cry, or saw me; I hate to hear _you_ preach; but she--why, she
doesn't preach at all, but she says all you've got to say a hundred
times better."

He was excited and feverish that night, and in his sleep murmured scraps