"Oh," said Tip, "I can't; I _can't_ be a Christian! I have not done right
nor felt right to-day. I almost hate the boys, and Mr. Burrows too. I
don't know what to do."

"Go on home," said Satan. "Let the lamp and these new notions and all
_go_! Christ don't care anything about _you_; such a miserable, wicked,
story-telling boy as you have been, do you expect Him to notice _you_?"

But Tip's hand was in his pocket, resting on his lamp, as he had learned
to call it; and the low, sweet voice in his heart was urging him to let
its light shine. He drew it out, and turned the leaves, and the same dear
Helper stopped his eyes at the words, "Fear not, for I have redeemed
thee; I have called thee by thy name; thou art _Mine_."

Then came hot, thankful tears. Oh, precious words, sinking right into the
torn, troubled heart. Christ the Redeemer had called him by his name! He
was--yes, he _would be His_! He glanced around. Nobody was to be seen; he
was sitting in the hollow at the foot of the hill, and under the shade of
a low branching tree. And there he knelt down to pray; and Satan drew
himself away, for the spot around that kneeling boy was holy ground.
Tip's soul had gained the victory.




CHAPTER VIII.

"Freely ye have received, freely give."