shing still to
prolong the conversation. "Does that mean just a Christian, or does it
mean something more?"

"Yes. `As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the
sons of God, even to them that believe on His name.' Yes, it means just
the same. You see, it seems to bring us very near to Him, speaking of
Him as a Father, and of Christ as an Elder Brother. You know a child
will never want for anything that a loving father has to give, if it is
for his good; and so surely the children of God may well rest content
with what He appoints for them. The only wonder is that they are ever
otherwise than content."

Gertrude made no reply, and there was a long silence.

"`A child of God.' `Content with what He sends them.' There is
something wonderful in it. She is one of them, I dare say; and that is
what makes her so different from almost any one I know. I wish I could
understand it. It must be worth a great deal to know that one is a
child of God. I wish she could tell me more about it."

But Christie did not seem inclined to say more on any subject that
night. She moved here and there in silence, putting things to rights in
the room. Gertrude rose at last.

"That is a hint that it is time for me to go," she said.

Christie laughed.

"Well, yes. You know Mrs Seaton was displeased to find us sitting up
the other night when she came home. It is nearly ten."

"Oh, she won't be home to-night till the small hours have struck. Miss
Atherton will take care of that. There is no fear of her finding us up
to-night."

There was an expression of surprise on Christie's countenance.

"Oh, I know very well what you mean. That makes no difference, you
would say. Well, I suppose we must do what she would wish, the same as
if she were here, though I don't feel the least sleepy. Good-night."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE CURE FOR A BAD TEMPER.

The first days of winter passed away rapidly. Gertrude continued to
watch Christie's daily life, and to draw her own conclusions from what
she saw. Humble, patient, and self-denying she always saw her, and
almost always she was peaceful and happy. Not quite always; for
Christie was not very strong, and had her home-sick days, and was now
and then despondent. But she was rarely irritable at these times. She
was only very quiet, speaking seldom, even to little Claude, till the
cloud passed away. And when it passed it left the sunshine brighter,
the peace