It was Christie's turn now to be the comforter.
"Master Treffy," he said, "just you tell the Lord that; I'm sure He'll understand."
Treffy clasped his hands at once, and said earnestly,—
"Lord Jesus, I do love Thee; I wish I could do something for Thee, but I've only another week to live,—only another week; but, oh! I do thank Thee, I would give anything to have some of my life back again, to show my love to Thee; please understand what I mean. Amen."
Then old Treffy turned over and fell asleep. Christie sat for some time longer by the fire. He had tried to forget the last day or two how short a time he had with his old master, but it had all come back to him now. And his heart felt very sad and desolate. It is a very dreadful thing to lose the only friend you have in the world. And it is a very dreadful thing to see before you a thick, dark cloud, and to feel that it hangs over your pathway, and that you must pass through it. Poor Christie was very full of sorrow, for he "feared as he entered into the cloud." But Treffy's words came back to his mind, and he said, with a full heart,—
"Lord Jesus, do help me to give my life to Thee. Oh! please help me to spare old Treffy. Amen."
Then, rather comforted, he went to bed.
The next morning he looked anxiously at old Treffy. He seemed weaker than usual, and Christie did not like to leave him. But they had very little money left, and Treffy seemed to wish him to go; so Christie went on his rounds with a heavy heart. He determined to go to the suburban road, that he might tell little Mabel and her mother how much worse his dear old master was. It is such a comfort to speak of our sorrow to those who will care to hear.
Thus Christie stopped before the house with the pretty garden in front of it. The snowdrops were over now, but the primroses had taken their place, and the garden looked very gay and cheerful. But Christie had no heart to look at it; he was gazing up anxiously at the nursery window for little Mabel's face. But she was not to be seen, so he turned the handle of his organ and played "Home, sweet Home," her favorite tune, to attract her attention. A minute after he began to play he saw little Mabel coming quickly out of the house and running towards him. She did not smile at him as usual, and she looked as if she had been crying, Christie thought.
"Oh, organ-boy," she said, "don't play to-day. Mamma is ill in bed, and it makes her head ache."