Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 10, March 8, 1914

On the Primary Room wall was a beautiful picture of a shining river. Francie loved to count the fish that were swimming in it. Just fourteen there were, and every one stood for a new scholar someone had brought into the Primary Class.
How Francie wished he could bring one and have Miss Florence pin a fish in the river and a red tag on his blouse to show that he had caught it.
“How you s'pose I can get a fish, mother?” he asked earnestly. “I should think a Fisher-boy ought to be able to catch just one.”
Mother shook her head. “I don't know, I'm sure. There isn't a child on this street who doesn't go to Sunday-school.”
“P'r'aps one will move on,” said Francie hopefully.
But when a new family did move to that street there were no children in it.
One day Francie came flying into the house. “Oh. mother, the ash-man's here and I b'lieve he's got a fish with him!”
“What?” exclaimed mother, but when she looked out she understood. Sitting in the ash-man's cart was a pretty little boy, with black eyes and tight curly hair.
“Is he yours. Mr. Lugi?” mother asked, and the ash-man smiled and nodded:
“Yes. mine—my Rafael.”
“Does he go to Sunday-school?” put in Francie eagerly.
“No, no school—too little, him.”