Many years ago an infidel lived near my Mission School in Chicago.  He was very angry because I had started the school near his house.  An old proverb says, "Like Priest, like People," and you can say, "Like Parent, like Child."  His children knew their father didn't like me, and when I went by the house they called me "hypocrite" and pretty much everything else that was bad.  I worked months and months to get those children into my Sunday-school, but met nothing but curses from children and parents.  One night we were having a boys' meeting, and I noticed that one of his little boys, about thirteen years old, had come in.  At first I thought God had sent him, but after-wards I thought perhaps Satan had, for he was sticking pins into the other boys, and doing everything he could to break up the meeting.  I kept quiet, and when I went out I said:
     "Allie, I am glad you came to-night.  I hope you will come again."
     He felt ashamed when I spoke so kindly to him, after he had behaved so badly, but he promised to come again, and he came night after night.  One night he arose in the meeting and said:
     "Boys, you know all about my home, and you know all about me.  I wish you would pray God to convert me.  I would like to become a Christian."
     I said to myself, "That is the entering wedge into that infidel home."
     One day about five weeks after, I noticed that he was crying.  I thought perhaps something had gone wrong with him during the day, but he got up, weeping, and said:
     "Boys, I wish you would pray for my mother."
     "Thank God for that," I said.
     After prayer I took him aside and said:
     "Allie, have you ever told your mother what God has done for you?"
     "No," he said, "but I have tried to show it in my life.  I have been obedient and kind, and done everything I could to please her."
     "That is splendid," I said, "but perhaps the time has come for you to confess Christ.  And now, when you go home, won't you ask your mother to let you pray with her."  He said he couldn't.
     "You had better tell your mother what the Lord has done for you," I said.
     The next morning he came to my place of business and said his mother wanted to see me at her house.  I said:
     "I will go up this afternoon."
     He said she would like to see me right away.  So I went.  When I arrived at the house the mother wanted everyone to go out of the room but Allie, herself, and me; and when we were alone, she said:
     "Mr. Moody, I sent for you to tell me what to do to be saved."
     "Well, what has brought about this change?"
     "Well," she said, "how can I help believing in religion when I have seen such a change in Allie?  Last night he nearly broke my heart.  He came to me from the meeting and hung around as if he wanted to tell me something, but he said nothing.  At last I said, 'Allie, you had better go to bed.'  He still lingered, and finally I commanded him to go.  He has been a very obedient child lately.  He started, and went up one or two steps, and then suddenly came back and buried his head in my bosom and began to cry.  I said, 'Are you sick, Allie?'  'No, mother.'  'What is the trouble?  Has any one hurt your feelings?'  'Mother, I have been trying to be a Christian for the past five weeks, and the boys at school laugh at me, and brother Charlie laughs at me when I pray, and I have nobody to help me.  I wish you were a Christian, for if you were you would help me.'  When he went to his bedroom.  I thought I would go to his room and see if he felt as badly as he pretended to.  I heard him praying:  'Save my mother to-night.  Have mercy on my mother.'  I could not sleep.  All through the night I could hear my little boy's voice pleading for me.  I never spent such a wretched night in my life.  If you will show me how to become a Christian, I will become one.  I don't want to keep my boy back."
     She became a Christian.  She came to my school, took a class, and within a few weeks every member of that infidel family, but one, were Christians.                        
                                                                                                                                               D. L. Moody