"When the grey dawn of morning crept into my room there he was, sitting by me and watching me still.
"'Jem,' says I, 'I've come to Jesus. I'm awful bad, but He's said as He'll not cast me out. I've come.'
"At that he looked as glad as if I'd left him a fortune. And then he gets up and lights my fire, and warms some gruel his mother had brought for me, and while I was eating it, I says to him, 'Jem,' says I, 'you may have it!'
"'Have what?' says he.
"'My room,' says I. And that's how it was as I moved up here to make room for you!"
Meg had sat spell-bound, listening to the woman's words, her interest in her Jem swallowed up in her greater interest in this soul's struggle from death to life.
"Oh, thank you for telling me," she exclaimed at last.
But the invalid spoke again.
"I've been a selfish woman all my life, and now I've come near the end of it, I'm a selfish old woman still; but my Jesus is going to cure me of that. I tell Him about it every day, and He helps me every day to get the better of it, a little bit."
"Oh, Miss Hobson," said Meg, coming close to her, "I do want to get like Jesus too. Will you help me?"