With the resolve she rose from the chair where she had been sitting, and kneeling before it with clasped hands and closed eyes, from which penitent tears stole down her cheeks, said, in low, reverent tones, “Dear Lord Jesus, I’m only a little girl and very full of sin; I’ve done a great many bad things in my life, and haven’t done the good things I knew I ought to do; and I have a very bad heart that doesn’t want to do right.  Oh, please make it good; oh, please take away all the wickedness that is in me; wash me in Thy precious blood, so that I shall be clean and pure in Thy sight.  Forgive me for living so long without loving Thee, when I’ve known all the time about Thy great love to me.  Help me to love Thee now and forever more; I give myself to Thee to be all thine forever and forever.  Amen.”

Her prayer was ended, yet she did not at once rise from her kneeling posture; it was so sweet to linger there at the Master’s feet; she remembered and trusted His promise, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out,” and almost she could hear His dear voice saying in tenderest tones, “Daughter, thy sins, which are many, are forgiven thee.”

“I love them that love Me, and those that seek Me early shall find Me.”

She seemed to feel the touch of His hand laid in blessing on her head, and her heart sang for joy.

Meanwhile the older children had gathered about Aunt Chloe, now seated in a back veranda—­the weather being still warm enough for the outer air to be very pleasant at that time of day—­and Rosie, as spokesman of the party, begged coaxingly for stories of mamma when she was a little girl.

“It’s de Lawd’s day, chillens,” answered the old woman in a doubtful tone.

“Yes, mammy,” acknowledged Rosie, “but you can easily make your story fit for Sunday; mamma was so good—­a real Christian child, as you have often told me.”

“So she was, chile, so she was; I’s sho’ she lub de Lawd, from de bery day her ole mammy fus’ tole her how He lub her.  Yes, you right, Miss Rosie; I kin tole you ’bout her, and ‘twon’t break de Sabbath day.  Is yo’ all hyar now?” she asked, glancing inquiringly about.

“All but Gracie,” said Rosie, glancing round the little circle in her turn.  “I wonder where she is.  Betty,” to a little negro maid standing in the rear, “go and find Miss Gracie, and ask if she doesn’t want to hear the stories mammy is going to tell us.”

“Yes, Miss Rosie, whar you s’pose Miss Gracie done gone?” drawled the little maid, standing quite still and pulling at one of the short woolly braids scattered here and there over her head.

“I don’t know.  Go and look for her,” returned Rosie, somewhat imperiously.  “Now hurry,” she added, “or there won’t be time for all mammy has to tell.”

“Wisht I know whar Miss Gracie done gone,” sighed Betty, reluctantly obeying.

“I saw her going upstairs,” said Lulu; “so it’s likely you’ll find her in Mamma Vi’s rooms.”