“I am sure I’ll be glad to see you, Miss Lillie, but are you sure you would like it? There is no one there but the people from the quarters.”
“Yes, I know, but you talk about Jesus, don’t you?”
“Oh yes!” replied Tom, the little smile hovering about his lips which always came at any loving mention of his Saviour’s name.
“Well, then, that’s just what I want to come for. I never hear anything about Jesus at home. And besides, he is there with you.”
“Yes,” replied Tom, earnestly—“yes indeed, Miss Lillie. I was very wrong to forget that. I shall be very glad to see you.”
“Thank you, Tom; then I will come, but I want something more. Jake says the children learn verses to say—hymns or Bible verses. Won’t you teach me one? I know a good many old ones, but I want something quite new for the first Sunday.”
Tom’s eyes fell for a moment, and a curious look flashed from them into the roses on the carpet. It was of gladness that he knew just what she wanted and could give it to her—of sorrow that more about him did not know, and a mingling of both joy and sorrow that she, the daughter of the house, should be obliged to come to him, a laborer on the plantation, for the knowledge of Jesus.
But when his words came, they showed none of his thought, except a realization of who it was to whom he was speaking:
“I think, Miss Lillie, I can give you a very pretty little verse I learned a few days ago. Will you stay a few minutes longer and learn it?”
“Yes indeed,” she replied, “I will stay.”