ickly. Others have to wait long, weary years of discipline.
But all the King's sons shall be ready at last, all shall be taken home,
and shall enter upon the inheritance. Will _you_ be there?"

And with that question the clergyman ended his sermon, and the little
congregation broke up very quietly, and went home with thoughtful faces.

Christie lingered near the door till the clergyman came out. He asked
very kindly of old Treffy, and then he put a few questions to Christie
about the sermon; for he had been afraid whilst he had been preaching
that he had not made it so clear that a child might understand. But he
was cheered to find that the leading truth of the sermon was impressed
on little Christie's mind, and that he would be able to carry to old
Treffy something, at least, of what he had heard.

For Christie was taught of God, and into hearts prepared by the Holy
Spirit the seed is sure to sink. The Lord has prepared them for the
word, and prepared the word for them, and the sower has only to put his
hand into his basket and scatter the seed prayerfully over the softened
soil. It will sink in, spring up, and bring forth fruit.

The clergyman felt the truth of this as he walked home. And he
remembered where it was written, "The preparation of the heart is from
the Lord." "That is a word for me, as well as for my hearers," he said
to himself. "Lord, ever let Thy preparation go before my preaching."

CHAPTER IX.

TREFFY ENTERS THE CITY.

"Christie, boy," said Treffy, that night, when Christie had told him all
he could remember of the sermon, and had repeated to him the third verse
of the hymn, "Christie, boy, the Lord will have to get _me_ ready very
fast, very fast indeed."

"Oh, maybe not, Master Treffy," said Christie, uneasily, "maybe not so
fast as you think."

"The month's nearly up, Christie," said old Treffy; "and I think I'm
getting very near the city, very near to 'Home, sweet Home.' I can
almost see the letters over the gate sometimes, Christie."

But Christie could not answer. His face was buried in his hands, and his
head sank lower and lower as he sat beside the fire. And, at length,
though he tried to keep it in, there came a great sob, which reached old
Treffy's heart. He put his hand lovingly on Christie's head, and for
some time neither of them spoke. But when the heart is very sore,
silence often does more to comfort than words can do, only it must be
silence which comes from a ful