“Ah! then I consider you a very unfortunate child,” remarked the old gentleman, still more gravely; “for it is by no means good for a little one like you to have too much of her own way.”

Mr. Grier—­for that was the old gentleman’s name—­had been much interested in the little Elsie’s appearance.  He had noticed the look of sadness on her fair young face, and conjectured, from something in the manner of the rest of the family toward her, that she was in disgrace; yet he was sure there was no stubbornness or self-will in the expression of that meek and gentle countenance.  He began to suspect that some injustice had been done the little girl, and determined to watch and see if she were indeed the naughty child she was represented to be, and if he found her as good as he was inclined to believe, to try to gain her confidence, and see if he could help her out of her troubles.

But Elsie did not come down again that evening, and though he saw her at the breakfast-table the next morning, she slipped away so immediately after the conclusion of the meal, that he had no opportunity to speak to her; and at dinner it was just the same.

But in the afternoon, seeing her walk out alone, he put on his hat and followed at a little distance.  She was going toward the quarter, and he presently saw her enter a cabin where, he had been told, a poor old colored woman was lying ill, perhaps on her death-bed.

Very quietly he drew near the door of the hut, and seating himself on a low bench on the outside, found that he could both see and hear all that was going on without himself being perceived, as Elsie had her back to the door, and poor old Dinah was blind.

“I have come to read to you again, Aunt Dinah,” said the little girl, in her sweet, gentle tones.

“Tank you, my young missus; you is bery kind,” replied the old woman feebly.

Elsie had already opened her little Bible, and in the same sweet, gentle voice in which she had spoken, she now read aloud the third chapter of St. John’s gospel.

When she had finished reading the sixteenth verse—­“God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life,”—­she paused and exclaimed, “Oh!  Aunt Dinah, is not that beautiful?  Does it not make you glad?  You see it does not say whosoever is good and holy, or whosoever has not sinned, but it is whosoever believes in Jesus, the only begotten Son of God.  If it was only the good, Aunt Dinah, you and I could never hope to be saved, because we are both great sinners.”

“Not you, Miss Elsie! not you, darlin’,” interrupted the old woman; “ole Dinah’s a great sinner, she knows dat well nuff—­but you, darlin’, you never did nuffin bad.”

“Yes, Dinah,” said the little voice in saddened tones, “I have a very wicked heart, and have been a sinner all my life; but I know that Jesus died to save sinners, and that whosoever believes in him shall have eternal life, and I do believe, and I want you to believe, and then you, too, will be saved.”