Dil stared stupidly. “I don’t want her to do nothin’,” she said, with a quivering lip.
“But you want her to love you.”
“How could I help it?” cried Bess.
“No, you couldn’t. And when the Lord found people ill and lame and blind, he cured them—”
“O mister!” interrupted Bess, with her face in a glow of wonderful light, “do you s’pose he could have cured my poor hurted little legs so’s I could walk on ’em agen?”
“Yes, my child. He would have taken you in his arms and laid his hand on you, and you would have been strong and well.”
“And where is he now?” she asked eagerly.
“He went back to heaven—to his Father.” Ah, how could he explain to their limited understanding the sacrifice that had redeemed the world. He began to realize that faith for one’s self was easier than giving a reason for one’s faith. “He told people how to be kind and tender and loving, and to care for those in pain and sickness. He begged them to do it because he had loved them. That was all he wanted back. But there were ungrateful people, and those who were eager to fight and destroy each other, and they would not listen to him. But when he went away he left others, teachers, and they go on telling people—”
How could he make it simple enough for their comprehension? He was in despair.
“Then he called those together who loved him and were willing to be good and kind, and said to them, ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions—I go to prepare a place that you may be with me’—”