ry good to them," Effie said many times;
and Christie echoed it with thankfulness. Nor is it to be supposed that
Effie listened with less interest to all that Christie had to tell, or
that she found less cause for gratitude.

At first she had much to say about Miss Gertrude and the little boys,
and of her pleasant life since she had been with them. But by little
and little Effie led her to speak of her first months in the city, and
of her trials and pleasures with the little Lees. She did not need much
questioning when she was fairly started. She told of her home-sickness
at first, her longings for them all, her struggles with herself, and her
vexing thoughts about being dependent upon Aunt Elsie. Of the last she
spoke humbly, penitently, as though she expected her sister to chide her
for her waywardness.

But Effie had no thought of chiding her. As she went on to tell of Mrs
Lee's illness and of her many cares with the children, she quite
unconsciously revealed to her interested listener the history of her own
energy and patience--of all that she had done and borne during these
long months.

Of Mrs Lee's kindness she could not speak without tears. Even the
story of little Harry's death did not take Christie's voice away as did
the remembrance of her parting with his mother.

"I am sure she was very sorry to part with me," she said. "Oh, she had
many cares; and sorrows too, I am afraid. And you may think how little
she had to comfort her when she said to me that I had been her greatest
comfort all the winter. She was very good and kind to me. I loved her
dearly. Oh, how I wish I could see her again!"

"You _will_ see her again, I do not doubt," said Effie, in a low voice.
Christie gave her a quick look.

"Yes, I hope so--I believe so."

After a little while, Effie said:

"If I had known how unhappy you were at first, I think I would have
called you home. But I am not sorry that you stayed, now."

"No; oh, no. I am very glad I came. I think after Annie went away I
was worse than I was at first for a little while; but I was very glad
afterwards that I did not go with her, very glad."

"Yes," said Effie, softly. "You mind you told me something about it in
a letter."

So, shyly enough at first, but growing earnest as she went on, Christie
told her about that rainy Sabbath morning when she went to the kirk,
where Jesus, through the voice of a stranger, had spoken peace to her
soul.

"I couldna