n' of to-night."

"Tell me," said Ronald.

"_He that shall endure_," said Connie. "Yes, Connie," repeated
Ronald--"'He that shall endure'----"

"_To the end_," said Connie, "_shall be saved_," she added.

"Oh Connie!" cried the boy. "Do you really, really think so?"

"Father John says it, and Father John couldn't tell a lie," continued
the girl. "He says that is one of God's promises, and God never made a
mistake. 'He that shall endure to the end--shall be saved.'"

"Then," said Ronald, "if _we_ endure _we_ shall be saved."

"Yes," replied Connie.

"You're not frightened, then?"

"Not after that," said Connie.

"How can you tell that _was_ what Big Ben said?"

"'Eard him," said Connie.

She unclasped Ronald's arms from her neck and stood up.

"I'm better," she said; "I'm not frightened no more. Sometimes it's 'ard
to endure--Father John says it is. But ''E that _shall_ endure to the
end'--to the _end_--he made a great p'int o' that--'shall be saved.'"

"Then _we'll_ be saved," said Ronald.

"Yus," answered Connie.

She looked down at the little boy. The boy was gazing into the fire and
smiling. Connie put on some fresh lumps of coal, and the fire broke into
a cheerful blaze. It did not matter at all to the good coal whether it
burned out its heart in an attic or a palace; wherever it was put to do
its duty, it did it. Now gay little flames and cheerful bursts of
bubbling gas rendered even the hideous room bright.

"W'y, it's long past tea!" said Connie. "I'll put on the kettle and
we'll have our tea, Ronald. Maybe Aggie'll be back in a minute, and
maybe she'd like a cup o' tea."

Connie put on the kettle, and then went to the cupboard to get out the
provisions. These were exceedingly short. There was little more than a
heel of very stale bread, and no butter, and only a scrape of jam; but
there was a little tea in the bottom of the tea-canister, and a little
coarse brown sugar in a cup.

Connie laid the table quite cheerfully.

"We'll toast the bread," she said. "Tea and toast is famous food."

She got an old, bent toasting-fork, and she and Ronald laughed and even
joked a little as they browned the stale bread until it was quite crisp
and tempting-looking.

"I'd ever so much rather have this tea than a great, big, grand one with
Mammy Warren," said Connie.

"Yes, Connie," said the boy; "so would I."

They had no milk with their tea, but that was, after all but a small
circumstance. They s