He didn't want to say his prayers because he had never said any. She suggested, therefore, that he should kneel on the bed, put his hands together, and repeat the words she told him to say, as she sat on the edge of the cot.
"Dear God"—"Dear God"—"take care of me to-night"—"take care of me to-night"—"and take care of my dear mother"—"and take care of my dear mudda"—"and make us happy again"—"and make us happy again"—"for Jesus Christ's sake"—"for Jesus Christ's sake"—"Amen"—"Amen."
"God's up in the sky, isn't He?" he asked, as he hugged his dancing toy to him and let her cover him up.
"God's everywhere where there's love, it seems to me, dear. I bring a little bit of God to you, and you bring a little bit of God to me; and so we have Him right here. That's a good thought to go to sleep on, isn't it? So good-night, dear."
She kissed him as she supposed his mother would have done. He threw his arms about her neck, drawing her face close to his. "Good night, dear," he whispered back, and almost before she rose from the bedside she knew he was asleep.
Somewhere toward morning she came into the room and found him sitting up in his cot.
"Will it soon be daytime, Mrs. Crewdson?"
"Yes, dear; not so very long now."
"And when daytime comes could I go to the jail?"
"Not too early, dear. They wouldn't let you in."