"I want you to believe it, not to please me, Grif," Alice said, "but because it is so. If we suffer in this world, we shall be recompensed for it by-and-by."
"That's good. It's what the preacher chap said when I was in quod; only he told me it different like. I didn't believe him. But I do you. And yet he wouldn't give me nothin' when I was starvin'!"
"See, now, how good God is," said Alice; "how He has sent us friends when we most needed them. Those good people yesterday--"
"That was a queer move, that was, for niggers," mused Grif. "They're the right sort, though. They oughtn't to be black; 'taint right. I've heerd of Black Moses often, but I never sor him before yesterday."
"May God bless and prosper them! And our last friend, too. I think I should have died if this kind man had not assisted us."
"He's a good sort of a cove, for a bullock-driver, and no mistake," said Grif.
"Do you ever pray, Grif?"
"No; never knowed how to."
"Kneel down with me, dear Grif, and thank the Lord for the good He has sent to us. When I think that, but for the simple act of kindness of that good man, I might be lying helpless, unable to pursue my journey, my heart is full of gratitude."
They knelt down together, and Alice said a simple prayer, Grif repeating it after her. When they rose, Alice said,--