'I've got two fathers,' said Bobby proudly, 'and I especks you have one same as me. God is my Father. Isn't He yours?'
Curly gave a kind of snort.
'That's Sunday-school jaw!'
'It isn't jaw,' said Bobby, gazing at him solemnly. 'It's quite true; and God looks after everybodies who's in His family. And if a boy hasn't any father, God is 'ticularly kind to him to make up for it. Once my father was far away, and God was ever so kind to me. I used to feel He was. He never goes away, so you can always have Him to talk to.'
Margot came downstairs at this juncture and put a parcel into Curly's hand.
'There, my lad, that's for helping Master Bobby. And now run off, for I'm sure our landlady wouldn't like to see you here.'
'Stop!' cried True, coming up the kitchen stairs; 'see what I've got for him! It's scalding hot!'
She was carrying very carefully, in both hands, a cup of cocoa, and Curly's eyes lit up at the sight of it.
'And a piece of cake,' she added, producing a slice from her pocket.
Curly took the cup from her with a gruff 'thank 'ee.' He made short work of both cocoa and cake, then took his parcel and made for the door.