Poor Polly heard the shrieks of the woman as she ran under her window, and looking out, she saw the boat on the shore, and guessed the truth at once. She did not scream nor cry, but she looked as if she had been turned into stone.  No word escaped her lips, not a tear was in her eye; but she looked as if all her youth had gone in a moment, and as if she had suddenly become an old and worn-out woman.

She never looked up as we went in, but bent over little John, moistening his lips from time to time, and watching his every movement.  We tried to say a few words of comfort, but she did not seem even to hear our voices.  Yet no moan, no sigh from the child was unheard by her; she seemed to be listening to every breath he drew, as if it might be his last.

I thought that terrible day would never have an end.  Mr. Christie stayed with us until dark, and then he took me home with him to supper, that I 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 kettle.  As soon as the fire was hot enough I put the kettle on, and cutting a slice from the loaf I made some nice crisp toast, such as my aunt used to like when she was ill.  Then I heated a plate, and buttered the toast, and set it down by the fire.  By this time the kettle was boiling and I made the tea, and I said in my heart when all was finished, ‘Lord Jesus, I do this for Thee.’