Miss Gregory smiled, then told her to follow her to church; and on the way talked very earnestly to her, trying to make her realise how weak she was in herself, and how strong her Saviour.
When Peggy reached home, and sat down to the luxury of a mutton chop with her aunt, she began to think how she could pass on what she had heard. It was very difficult. Mrs. Perkins was more discontented on Sunday than any other day in the week. She had time for airing her grievances, and her tongue certainly never had a Sabbath's rest, if her hands had.
"Aunt," said Peggy at length, bringing out her words with a jerk, "do you ever feel like singing?"
"Are you givin' me some of yer imperence?" was the angry retort.
"Oh no, I ain't a-goin' to sauce yer! Teacher, was a-tellin' me of a sick body havin' a singin' heart."
"I dessay," Mrs. Perkins said scornfully. "Let yer teacher wait till she has a sick body, and then let her sing!"
"I 'spect she would," said Peggy thoughtfully. "She says how you does it is to ask Jesus to come into your heart, and He'll make it sing."
Mrs. Perkins gave a contemptuous snort.
Peggy gained courage, and proceeded—
"I was arskin' her if sick folk that couldn't be cured by doctors could be done any good to, and she says, 'Yes, their hearts could be made well and sound and 'appy. It sounds cheerful like, don't it? I thought as 'ow you'd like to hear it."