Her father made no answer, but lay groaning as terribly as before.
"Is it so very bad to bear, dear father?" repeated the child.
"Awful bad," groaned Hardy.
Grace said no more at the time; but her father heard her presently murmuring, in a low voice—"O God, give father grace to bear his pain well, and make him better, for Jesus Christ's sake!"
The doctor came shortly afterwards and set the limb, after which Hardy felt somewhat easier; and, worn-out with pain, he fell into a sound sleep. Grace listened to his heavy but regular breathing, and knew that he still slept. Some hours passed away, and then she heard her father move in his bed, and utter a deep sigh.
"Is the pain better, father?"
"A great deal better, Gracie; perhaps, after all, God heard your prayer, child."
Grace did not until then know that her father had overheard her, and a thrill of joy passed through her heart as she heard him call her "Gracie," and speak more gently to her than he had done for years.
"God always hears our prayers, father," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Let us both thank Him for having done so to-day."
"Amen," said John Hardy, as Gracie thanked God in her own childish language for giving her father ease from his pain.