"I don't know how ter pray. I'm afraid ter pray. Do you know," he said desperately, "I've committed about every crime but murder?"
Again he bowed his head on his arms. His frame shook with sobs. The calm, well-poised girl had never before seen such a stirring of the deeps. A strong man in tears is not an easy thing to witness.
"Will yer pray fur me?" he said at length; but he did not lift his head.
Then upon his ears fell the comforting voice of the teacher. It was the first time in all his life anyone had prayed for him. Something choked him. At last he looked up into her eyes.
"Learn me ter pray," he said huskily.
"Say this, John, now: 'Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me.'"
He repeated, "'Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me!'"
It was the first prayer John Harding had ever prayed. He rose to go.
"I wisht—." He hesitated.
"What do you wish?"