ferred to the incident, while it
seemed to have passed wholly from the mind of Nellie herself. At the
conclusion of the lesson, Budge complimented teacher and pupil and
said he would be glad to certify that Mr. Brush was the best teacher
in New Constantinople, and that it was impossible for any one to take
his place. Then he bade them good day and walked thoughtfully away,
leaving them once more to themselves.

These were the most precious moments of all to the teacher, when the
formal lesson was completed, and he sat down for a little talk with
his pupil. He occupied the stone which served her for a seat, while
one arm loosely clasped the figure which stood between his knees. She
patted his cheek, played with his rough collar and shaggy whiskers,
while as he listened and replied to her prattle, felt as never before
the truth of the declaration that of such is the kingdom of heaven.

"Mr. Brush," she finally said, "do you know why I love you?"

"I suppose it must be because I am so handsome," he replied with a
smile.

"No; it isn't that, for you _ain't_ handsome."

"Whew! but you are not afraid to speak the truth, little one, and I
hope you will always do that. No; I don't know why you love me,
unless you are so good yourself that you can't help it."

This was not exactly clear to the little one, and she stood silent for
a minute, gently fingering his long beard. Then she thought it best to
clear up the mystery without further parley.

"I love you 'cause you're good."

Even though the avowal was delightful, it caused a pang, like a
knife-thrust from his accusing conscience.

"I am thankful to hear you say that, but, Nellie, I am not good."

"Yes, you is, but if you ain't good, why ain't you good?"

The logic of the reply of the adult was of the same grade as that of
the child.

"I suppose the true reason is because I am bad. I am sorry to say it,
but I have drifted far away from where I ought to be."

The dimpled hand continued to fondle the whiskers, and the little
brain was busy, but a wisdom that was more than human guided it.
Turning those lustrous blue eyes upon him she softly asked:

"Will you do what I ask you?"

He almost gasped, for he instinctively suspected what was coming, but
he answered without hesitation:

"If it is my power I will do it, though it kills me."

"Oh, I don't want it to kill you; this won't hurt you; will you do it,
Mr. Brush?"

"Yes, God helping me."

"Do like Mr. R