"It is easy enough to tell real silver from plated, if you look at the marks," she said. "The silver always has the King's stamp on it, and I take it that the life of the true disciple of Jesus has his King's stamp on it too. The man who has taken his sins to Jesus and found peace through His precious cleansing blood, and who is under the influence of God's Holy Spirit, cannot help showing the marks and signs in his daily life. It is a pity that we are not as anxious to look for them, and as ready to discern them, as we might be. Any way, seeing it is so easy to make mistakes in judging our neighbours, it would be well for us to remember what Jesus said, 'Judge not that ye be not judged.'"
"I was wrong about Mr. Burton," replied Duff. "Even in the matter of old Ann Willis, I said hard things about him. I know now that he wished to be her real friend; and, whilst I blamed him for not putting temptation in her way, he was actually trying to persuade her to give up the bad habit that was her ruin, to leave the miserable hut she called 'home' and accept a comfortable one where she would be properly cared for. I've got a lesson," added the baker, "and now my eyes are opened, maybe I shall keep my mouth shut oftener than I have done. To think I should have called Mr. Burton 'close fisted!' I feel as if I could not forgive myself. Well, may God bless him, say I, to-day. And may the poor lady at the Nest and the pretty little one be the means of brightening the Hall for its master, till he brings a mistress to the big house itself. Here's 'a happy Christmas to them and to everybody,'" to which farewell words Mrs. Brown, now arrived at her own door, responded by a hearty "Amen."
[WHAT CAME OF A TALK.]
[CHAPTER I.]
THE BEST KIND OF HELP.
MR. POWELL'S grasp was on the door handle, when his wife laid a detaining hand on his arm.
"Be sure and call at Ann Crompton's on your way to the office, dear," she said. "She may know 'of a suitable person to take Elizabeth's place, and whoever she recommends is certain to be trustworthy."
Mr. Powell promised, and went his way, feeling less bright than usual. The breakfast hour was generally one of the pleasantest of the day. His wife, of barely a year's standing, attended to his wants with a smiling face, and the food had a better relish, because seasoned by cheery conversation.
This morning there had been no such seasoning. Mrs. Powell's face was clouded over, and she did nothing but grumble and tell tales of her housekeeping troubles.