"Oh, not many Days—"
"Days?" And I felt so lost.
—"Then, the Swifts are gone!" said I.
"Well, don't let's think about the Swifts," quod he gently. "Tempus fugit, as the Dial-plate says. What is it thou wilt have me to do?"
"Tomkins!"—and I reached his Ear down to me as he leant over me, "I've been so weak and so queer ever since I fell into the Water, that I don't believe, at least I can't remember having once said my Prayers ... will you say one for me?"
"I can't, Boy," and a hot Tear fell on my Face.
"Oh, yes, you can! ... and then I should sleep quietly—Ever so short an one!—"
"I can't remember one" said he, turning away his Head.
"Not one? Oh, Tomkins, indeed, indeed you must! For my Sake—Just this short one ... 'God be merciful to me, a Sinner!'"
"God be merciful to me, a Sinner," repeated he, bursting forth into Weeping; and I drew his Face down yet closer unto mine. "Thank you, Tomkins" quod I; "now I shall sleep soundly." And I slept.