“Yes; and, besides, I have got used to it. I know just where to find the places I want, almost without thinking of the chapter.”
“It is a perfect beauty of a Bible; and such clear print! But I am afraid it cost a great deal—as much as a pair of shoes, perhaps?” she continued, looking at her sister.
Effie laughed.
“But what comparison is there between a Bible and a pair of shoes? You must read it every day, dear; and then you’ll be sure to think of me.”
“I do that many times every day,” said Christie, sighing.
“I’m glad you like it, dear. Mr Craig ask me if it was for myself; and I told him no, it was for my little sister at home.”
Christie started. This, then, was one of the Bibles that the book-man had said he asked God to bless for the good of at least one soul. And he seemed so sure that his prayer would be heard. And, then, had not her prayer been heard?—not just as she had hoped, but in a better way. The thought filled her with a strange glad wonder. Could it be possible? Her eye fell on the open page, and her hand trembled as she read:
“Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.”
“Effie,” she said, softly, “I thank you very much. Lay it in my little box; and good-night.”
The tears that wet her pillow were very different from the drops that had fallen on it a little while before.