He looked neat and clean;
he had a fresh, clean shirt, thanks to the washing which his mother had
done "towards night." He was all ready for school, yet he waited.
Kitty clattered around, making rather more noise even than usual, as she
washed up the few poor dishes.
Evidently Tip was thinking about her. The truth was, his lamp had shown
him a lesson that morning like this: "Freely ye have received, freely
give." He stopped at that verse, reading no further. What did it mean I
Surely it spoke to him. Had not God given, oh, _so_ many things to him?
Had He not promised to give him heaven for his home? Now, here was the
direction: "Freely give." What, and to whom? To God? Surely not. Tip was
certain that he had nothing to give to God; nothing but his poor, sinful
heart, which he believed the Saviour had taken and made clean.
What could he give to any one? He leaned out of his little window, busy
with this thought. Kitty came out to the door, and pumped her pan full of
water. He looked down on her. There was Kitty; had he anything which he
could give her? He shook his head mournfully; not a thing.
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