"Sometimes—but there are twilight hours, and the long dark night, and then I can't read; and it is an inexpressible comfort to be able to repeat to myself."
"Do you learn any now, father?"
"Not as easily as I used, and with great pains, too. Over and over. We don't learn so quickly when we are older."
"Oh, I see," said Robbie, looking into the fire meditatively.
"So learn your daily verse cheerfully, my boy, and say, 'It will be a comfort to me by and by.'"
"And the parrot?" asked Robbie, smiling a little.
"He only repeats without thinking; we have a better reason than that, 'Thy word have I hid in my heart, that I might not sin against Thee.'"
Robbie stroked the loved hand again; a touch of love which his father perfectly understood.
"Shall I tell you another thing I do, when I am ill, or the night seems long?"
His father spoke cheerily, and the boy looked up.