Then conscience said, “Would it be right?” Had she not been learning, “Thou shalt not steal?” And had not Miss Lucy explained to her that that meant taking anything, even the least, that was not her own?  A short time ago Nelly would have appropriated any trifle that came in her way, without thinking twice about it; but some light had visited her mind now, and she could distinguish what was darkness.  But then this would not be stealing, it would only be borrowing the frock!  At last she was so near the house, that she was obliged to make up her mind at once; so, scarcely giving herself time to think, she wrapped up the frock in the smallest possible compass, hid it behind a stone, and ran on to leave her basket, hurrying nervously back, lest some one should inquire for the missing article.

She found it quite safe, however, and managed to convey it unseen to her little attic-room.  But Nelly felt far more unhappy than she had ever been when her harsh mother had beaten her most severely.  She could not understand how it was that she should feel so miserable.  She was glad that she could not go for her lesson to-night, for she should have been ashamed to face Miss Lucy.  One of the children just then began to cry, and she ran down-stairs, glad of something to do, and took the utmost pains to do her evening work particularly well, by way of making up for the wrong of which she was inwardly conscious.

But when she went to bed, Nelly, for the first time in her life, tossed about, unable to sleep.  All sorts of possibilities of detection and disgrace occurred to her, and, above all, the voice of conscience told her she was little better than a thief.  She had knelt down to say the simple prayer she had been first taught by Miss Preston, “O Lord, take away my sin, and make me Thy child, for Jesus Christ’s sake;” but indulged sin had come between her and the Father to whom she prayed, so that her prayer was only a formal one.  She fell asleep at last, but only to dream uneasy dreams, in which the pink frock was always prominent; and when she awoke in the early morning, it was with an uneasy sense of something wrong, soon defined into a distinct recollection.  As she lay watching the early sunbeams slanting golden into her dingy attic, her eye fell upon the card pinned up against the wall, “LOOKING UNTO JESUS,” which she could now spell out herself.  Had she not been told to “look to Jesus” when unhappy or naughty, and He would deliver her?  She knew now that she could speak to Jesus anywhere; so, springing out of bed and kneeling down, she simply but heartily asked Him to help her to be good.  Then, putting on her clothes with all the haste she could, for fear she might be tempted to change her mind, she ran off unobserved, carrying with her the coveted frock, which she handed, without a word, to the servant who was sweeping the steps, and who, recognising her, supposed her stepmother had forgotten to send it home with the rest of the washing.