"Ay, that I will, if you wish," said Benny, sitting down in a low chair before the fire. And in his simple childish way he told her all the story with which the reader is acquainted—for he had lost all shyness now—told it with a simple eloquence and pathos that brought the tears again and again to his little listener's eyes. Ay, he wept himself when he told of his little sister, of her goodness and of her love. He did not even hide from his listener the story of his temptation, and how but for his little Nelly he would have been a thief in act as well as in heart.

With the account of little Nelly's death Eva was much affected, and Benny sobbed again as the recollection of his loss came back to him.

"I thought I should ha' died when she were took," said he, between his sobs.

"Poor little boy!" said Eva, soothingly; "but you see your little sister's words have come true, after all."

"What words, miss?"

"Why, what you told me just now, Benny,—how the Lord would provide."

"Oh, ay," said Benny, reflectively, "though I wur as near as nothin' to starvin' the day I fust seed you."

"Were you? Then perhaps the Lord sent me to help you."

"Oh, no doubt on that score," said Benny, stoutly; "I's sartin about that matter."

"Do you go to Sunday-school, Benny?"

Benny shook his head.

"Nor to church or chapel?"

"Not since that night me an' Nelly went, that I told you 'bout."

"How is that?"

"Well, we did try to get into another place o' the sort, smarter like, but the gent at the door shoved us out, an' said there wur no room for such brats as us, an' told us to be off 'bout our bizness."

"Poor boy!" said Eva, wondering if he came to the chapel she attended if he would not receive similar treatment.

At length she looked up and said, "I would go to that chapel again, that you and Nelly attended, if I were you, on a Sunday. It would not be closed then, and I'm sure that kind gentleman would be glad to have you in the Sunday-school."

"Oh, then, I'll go," said Benny, who felt that this little girl's wish was law to him.

Soon after Mrs. Lawrence came in, read her husband's note without a word, and hastily wrote a reply.

"Make haste, Benny," she said kindly, giving him the letter she had written. "I'm afraid Mr. Lawrence will think you've been away a very long time."

Benny took the letter without a word, and hurried away with a heart full of gratitude for the kindly treatment he had received. It seemed to him as if that day he had had a glimpse of Paradise, and had spoken to one of God's angels face to face.