"What a lovely idea!" said a young girl enthusiastically. "And what a pretty boy! I long to take him up in my lap and kiss him!"
Dawn looked back at Puggy and Christina with mischief in his glance, then he sauntered boldly in front of the girl and looked at her.
When she caught his eye, he took off his hat with a low bow.
"Thank you!" he said, and then his flying feet carried him out of sight into an adjoining room before the young girl could get over her astonishment. Puggy followed him, but Christina stayed, and let her eyes take her to the next picture.
"Day" was simply the picture of a handsome, vigorous young blacksmith working at his forge; children were grouped round the door on their way to school; the sunshine outside and the glowing fire in the darkened forge were managed with consummate skill. "Dusk" was the third picture, and Christina could not tear herself away from this. An old man sitting in the twilight by the sick-bed of his old wife. That was the subject of it, but the gloom and pathos in his resigned expression and attitude, and the sad and wistful glance of his dying wife, as her face was turned towards him, brought the tears to the little girl's eyes.
"Oh, why do they look so unhappy!" she exclaimed aloud.
"Why? Because they are meeting their doom, the doom of us all—decay and death!"
Christina started nervously at the voice close to her. Turning, she saw an old man behind her leaning on his stick, and gazing intently upon the picture.
"But if you die, you go to Jesus," said Christina simply, "and that's a happy thing to do; Miss Bertha says it is."
The old man put his hand on her shoulder: