At last the important business was concluded, just in time for them to get home for lunch. Lucy felt very tired after her unwonted expedition over the hard city streets, with their bewildering noise and confusion, and was glad to get away as soon as possible to rest. She soon fell asleep, and when she awoke she found Amy sitting quietly beside her, playing with her doll.
"Won't you look at my doll, Cousin Lucy?" she said. "I got her on my birthday. Her name is Lucy, after you."
"After me?" said Lucy, surprised. "Did you call her after me before I came?"
"Yes," replied Amy timidly; "for Stella said you were nice, and I should love you."
"I hope you will, dear," said Lucy, touched and gratified, and she kissed her little cousin affectionately, looking pityingly at the pale, delicate face and fragile form. She had always wished to have a little sister of her own, and her heart was quite disposed to take the little girl into a sister's place. She drew her closer, and after talking a little about the doll, she said:
"Does Amy love the good, kind Saviour, who came to die for her?"
The child looked up with a puzzled expression.
"Jesus, you know," added Lucy, thinking that name might be more familiar.
"That is Jesus that my hymn is about. Nurse taught me, 'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.'"
"Yes. Well, don't you love Him, Amy? He loves you very much."