day, that if I would only say her prayer I should be sure to go to Home,
Sweet Home.

'Very soon after this my old master died, and on the very day that I was
following him to the grave I saw my poor little friend, your mother,
Jack, in a funeral coach, following her mother to the same place. Then
after that she went abroad, but she did not forget the poor organ boy.
She told her father about me, and he sent money for my education, and
had me trained to be a city missionary in the east of London, to work
amongst the very people amongst whom I had lived. All I am now I owe to
your grandfather.

'I did not meet your mother after this for many years, not until she was
married to the clergyman in whose parish I worked.

'Strange to say, we met one day in my old attic, the very attic where my
poor old master had died. She had gone there to visit a sick woman, and
as I went in she was reading to her from the very Testament out of which
her mother had read to my old master, when she had come to see him in
that place, fifteen years before.

'Soon after this we were married, Nellie and I, and it was your dear
mother who made our little home bright and pretty for us, and who was
there to welcome us to it. How we loved her then, how we love her still!

'When you were quite a tiny child, she would bring you to see us, and
Nellie used often to say you were the dearest, prettiest child she had
ever known!'

'I don't remember it,' I said.