rried something wrapped in paper in her hand.

"Look, Christie; I brought you a book--a better book than `The Scottish
Chiefs.' Turn round and look at it."

Slowly Christie raised herself up and turned round. She was ashamed of
her petulance by this time. Something shone in the light of the candle
which Effie held.

"What is it?" she asked; and her sister placed it in her hand.

It was a Bible, a very beautiful one, bound in purple morocco, with
clasps and gilt edges. It was small, but not too small even for
Christie's eyes.

"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Christie, forgetting everything in her
delight. "It is the very thing I have been wishing for!"

Effie said nothing, but watched her, well pleased.

"But, Effie," said Christie, suddenly, "this must have been very dear.
A plainer one would have done just as well. Did it cost much?"

"Not very much," said Effie, sitting down beside her again. "A Bible is
for one's whole lifetime, and so I got a good one, and a pretty one,
too; you are so fond of pretty things. If I had known that the book-man
was coming here I might have waited and let you choose it for yourself.
We might have changed it now, but see, I have written your name in it."

She turned to the fly-leaf, and read "Christina Redfern," with the date,
in Effie's pretty handwriting. She gave a sigh of pleasure as she
turned it over.

"No, I don't believe there is a nicer one there. It's far prettier than
yours, Effie. Wouldna you have liked it? Your old one would have done
for me."

"Oh, no, indeed! I would far rather have my own old Bible than the
prettiest new one," said Effie, hastily.

"Yes, I suppose so," said Christie. "Mother gave it to you."

"Yes; and, besides, I have got used to it. I know just where to find
the places I want, almost without thinking of the chapter."

"It is a perfect beauty of a Bible; and such clear print! But I am
afraid it cost a great deal--as much as a pair of shoes, perhaps?" she
continued, looking at her sister.

Effie laughed.

"But what comparison is there between a Bible and a pair of shoes? You
must read it every day, dear; and then you'll be sure to think of me."

"I do that many times every day," said Christie, sighing.

"I'm glad you like it, dear. Mr Craig ask me if it was for myself; and
I told him no, it was for my little sister at home."

Christie started. This, then, was one of the Bibles that the book-man
had said he asked God