Then there was silence. Nancy sat down on the rug, and took the large tabby cat on her lap.
'Did you think you was going to die?' she asked presently.
'I didn't think nothing at all till I woke up, and saw mother crying over me, and then I felt dreadful tired and ill. I asked her one day where she would bury me, for I was sure I was much too ill to get better, and she—well, she smiled, and said God was making me stronger every day. I didn't feel I was better a bit.'
'Would you like to have died and gone to heaven?'
'Yes,' Teddy answered promptly, 'of course I should. Wouldn't you?'
Nancy shook her head. 'I might if I was quite sure the angel would carry me safely all the way without dropping me, or leaving me in the clouds before we got there; but I think I like to live here best. Besides, I don't think I'm good enough to go to heaven yet.'
'I don't think it's being good gets us to heaven. Jesus died to let us, you know, like the hymn says,—
"Jesus loves me! He who died
Heaven's gate to open wide;
He will wash away my sin,
Let His little child come in."
Have you asked Him to forgive you, Nancy?'
Nancy nodded. 'Yes, when you was so ill. I felt I had been so wicked that
God was punishing me.'