The sunlight, shining through the rich, softly glowing colors, brought into relief the figure of The Good Shepherd with the lamb in his arms. And, suddenly, Blue Bonnet was a little child again, sitting in her mother’s lap, in the early twilight of a summer Sunday, listening to the parable of The Good Shepherd.
Grandmother, glancing down at the grave, serious face, wondered what the girl’s thoughts were—and where? Hardly in Woodford, for it was with a little start of recollection that Blue Bonnet came back to the present, at the ending of the sermon.
But in the singing of the closing hymn her voice rang out sweet and clear—
“The King of love my Shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am His,
And He is mine forever.”
It was a very silent walk home; even Blue Bonnet had little to say. She had declined Kitty’s invitation to walk with her; declined, also, to explain to that curious young person why she had come so late to church.
More than once during that walk, Blue Bonnet glanced a little doubtfully at her aunt; but the moment they reached home she followed Miss Clyde to her room.
“Please, Aunt Lucinda,” she said, standing just inside the doorway, “won’t you say what you’re going to right away? I’d like to have it over.”