The soft voice was full of a genuine regret. Evadne sank down on a bench which stood near by and burst into tears.
"Oh, Pompey, I wish I could die!"
"'Specs little Miss hez no call ter wish dat," said Pompey gently.
"'Specs de Lord Jesus wants her to live fer him."
Evadne opened her eyes in wonder.
"'The Lord Jesus,'" she repeated. "Why, Pompey, do you know him?"
A great joy transfigured the black face.
"He is my Frien'," he said simply.
Evadne leaned forward eagerly. "Oh, Pompey, if that is true, then you can help me find him."
Pompey smiled joyously. "Miss 'Vadney don't need ter go far away fer dat. He is right here."
"Here!" echoed Evadne faintly.