"Go back to bed, child," she said; "you'll catch your death of cold."
"But you are so cold, grannie; let me make up the fire, and get you a cup of tea; let me."
Mrs. Skinner said nothing, but she shivered, and leaned her head against the back of the chair.
Bet instantly made her preparations, and the kettle was soon boiling, and the cup of tea ready. The crackling of the wood, and the sudden blaze, seemed to thaw poor Mrs. Skinner mentally and bodily.
"You are a good girl," she said; "go to bed now."
As Bet was leaving the kitchen she looked back, and saw her grandmother with her head bowed on her hands, and heard a low, sobbing cry. The hardly-wrung tears of old age, the painful, difficult sobs of a sore and seared heart, how sad they are! Bet did not return to her grandmother, but, softly closing the door, left her, saying to herself—
"When I'm bad, and crying my heart out, I don't like to be watched. I dare say grannie is like me."
Then, faithful and loyal-hearted, she climbed the narrow stairs, and lay down this time to hear no disturbance till the morning dawned.
There are moments when the soul is brought, as it were, into the very presence of the all-loving Saviour of the lost. In the silent watches of that night the words which had been spoken by a child had a strange and unwonted power.
"Grannie," little Joy had said—"Grannie, God is Love; and as He loves us and forgives us, we'll love and forgive one another, won't we? and we'll be so happy together—you, and I, and mother, and Uncle Bobo, and dear Goody."