She spoke breathlessly. Her cheeks were sunken and she was so thin that all her bones showed through her skin.
Faith got the jug of tea, and poured it out into a cup. She gave it to the woman, who drank it eagerly, then sank back on her pillow as if she were quite exhausted. Then as Faith watched her, the tears came to her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the corner of the sheet.
"Nobody to care for me!" she muttered. "My Jim is away, and when he comes home, I'll be lyin' under the earth like a dog!"
"Oh, but you'll be in heaven," said Faith eagerly; "that will be only your body, and may I just tell you what old Timothy has told me? You needn't be alone or unhappy, for the Comforter will come and stay with you. He is God, you know, and He loves unhappy people. He dries their tears and comforts them. Would you like Him to come to you now? He lives in our world, nowhere else and nobody wipes tears away like Him, Timothy said so."
The woman looked at Faith's eager little face. "I used to hear about them things. I weren't born in a van. I lived proper with my father and mother in a small farm, and Jim used to mend our pots and pans. Oh, he were a handsome boy! An' we was wild to marry, so we just stole off, and I've never been home since. I used to go to Sunday school and church!"
"And have you got a father and mother?" asked Faith.
"No, they've both died."
"Then you're like us; our father and mother died, but we live with Granny. Oh, don't cry! You're beginning again. Do have the Comforter. Timothy says you ask Him to come, and He comes——do ask Him!"
The woman shook her head.
"I haven't said my prayers for years, but I'm scared to die, an' the doctor says both my lungs is gone; you say a little prayer, dearie. It won't do no harm, and p'raps God will be merciful."