might get a little change and rest before my night watch. I think they
knew how tired I was, worn out more by feeling than by want of sleep,
and they were very good to me. I do not think my own mother could have
been more kind to me than Mrs. Christie was that night. She told me that
she would have had a boy nearly as old as I was if he had lived, but he
had died when he was very young; and then they had had no children for
many years, not until Marjorie was born.

'Your mother was so good to me when my baby died,' she said. 'I thought
I should never be happy again, but she came and talked to me, and made
me look from my sorrow to my little boy's gain, and I think her kindness
to me and the loving words she spoke made me love her more than ever.'

I felt much better for the good supper, and for the kind words of these
dear people, and I went back determined to do all I could for poor Polly
and her child through that sorrowful night. I felt so grateful to the
Lord Jesus Christ for all He had done for me, and I was very glad to be
able to do any little thing to show my love to Him. It seemed to me
then, and it seems to me still, that the way in which we can please Him
best is by showing kindness to His children. I remembered a verse about
a cup of cold water being noticed by Him, if given for His sake, and I
thought to myself, 'Polly is not in need of cold water, for she is too
cold already, but I might make her a cup of tea.'

The fire was out, and the little kitchen, which was usually so neat, was
all in confusion. I lighted the lamp that I might see what I was about,
and then I tried to put the little place in order. First I found sticks
and coal, and lighted a fire; then, whilst my fire was burning up, I
cleared the table, carried the dirty plates and cups into the small back
kitchen, found a tablecloth and a clean cup and saucer, and filled the