“Do you love Jesus?”
“Yes,” replied Tom—adding quietly, “do you?”
“Yes,” she returned; “I cannot help it, because he is so kind; but mamma does not like it, nor papa, very much.”
Tom was not astonished, only grieved, but he said as calmly as before, “That makes no difference.”
“Ought I to love Jesus just the same, and pray to him just the same, if mamma does not like it?”
“What has Jesus done for you?” asked Tom.
“He died for me,” she replied, as if it were a needless question.
“Yes,” replied Tom, with a smile, turning over the leaves of his Bible, “he died for you and me.”
“Well, what then?” asked the child, waiting to see what was coming next, but getting no word.
“Why,” said Tom, looking up, “I think when anybody has died for me, I can never do enough for them if I work all my life.”