r that he had become a good man. The thought broke down all
his pride, all his bitterness; he wept like a little child; and the
Christmas gift of Christ--the sense of a real, present, loving, pitying
Saviour--came into his very _soul_.

He went homeward as one in a dream. He passed the drinking-saloon without
a thought or wish of drinking. The expulsive force of a new emotion had
for the time driven out all temptation. Raised above weakness, he thought
only of this Jesus, this Saviour from sin, who he now believed had
followed him and found him, and he longed to go home and tell his wife
what great things the Lord had done for him.

[Decoration]

SCENE V.

Meanwhile a little drama had been acting in John's humble home. His wife
had been to the shop that day and come home with the pittance for her
work in her hands.

"I'll pay you full price to-day, but we can't pay such prices any
longer," the man had said over the counter as he paid her. "Hard times--
work dull--we are cutting down all our work-folks; you'll have to take a
third less next time."

"I'll do my best," she said meekly, as she took her bundle of work and
turned wearily away, but the invisible arm of the Shining One was round
her, and the words again thrilled through her that she had read that
morning: "He shall redeem their soul from deceit and violence, and
precious shall their blood be in his sight." She saw no earthly helper;
she heard none and felt none, and yet her soul was sustained, and she
came home in peace.

When she opened the door of her little room she drew back astonished at
the sight that presented itself. A brisk fire was roaring in the stove,
and the tea-kettle was sputtering and sending out clouds of steam. A
table with a white cloth on it was drawn out before the fire, and a new
tea set of pure white cups and saucers, with teapot, sugar-bowl, and
creamer, complete, gave a festive air to the whole. There were bread, and
butter, and ham-sandwiches, and a Christmas cake all frosted, with little
blue and red and green candles round it ready to be lighted, and a bunch
of hot-house flowers in a pretty little vase in the centre.

A new stuffed rocking-chair stood on one side of the stove, and there sat
Miss Florence De Witt, our young princess of Scene First, holding little
Elsie in her lap, while the broad, honest countenance of Betty was
beaming with kindness down on the delighted face of Tottie. Both children
were dressed from