Christina had a very rich voice, and sang with wonderful taste and training; but she had said that evening to Nellie, "I wish I could sing as you do."
"As I do?" said Nellie, astonished. "Why my voice is nothing compared to yours."
Christina shook her head. "When you sing, I can hear every word; when I sing, people can hear a sound."
"I know what you mean," said Nellie, "and it is only by trying to sing the words very distinctly. I learned it when papa took me once or twice to sing to an aged dying man.
"He said in his weak voice, looking kindly at me, 'Very nice, little miss; very nice indeed! But what is it about, my dear?'
"When I explained to him that it was about 'Jesus,' he said, 'Then I wish I had heard it better, little miss.'
"I went home that day making up my mind to sing so that no one should miss His name; and so I got into the habit."
"Do you often sing to sick people?" asked Christina with an awakened face.
"Sometimes; papa takes me when he thinks it would be acceptable."
"Did you feel very strange at first?"