"God is a great, dear Father," the tuneful voice was saying, "and he wants somebody to love him; and the more people he makes, the more there are to love him, or should be, and so he made you. But oh, if we don't love him, it disappoints and grieves him!"
"Does it?" said Bart, thoughtfully, soberly.
"When you are at home--alone, upstairs--you tell God how you feel about it, just as you would tell your mother--"
"Or teacher," thought Bart.
"As you would tell your mother if she were on the earth."
That day, all alone hi his diminutive chamber, kneeling by a little bed whose clothing was all too scanty in cold weather, a boy told God he wanted to love him. When Bart rose from his knees he said to himself, "Now, I must try to love other people."
He went downstairs. Gran'sir was lying on a hard old lounge, making believe that he was trying to read his Bible, and at the same time he was very sleepy. Bart hesitated, and then said,--
"Gran'sir, don't you--you--want me to get you a pillow and put under your head?"
"Oh, that's a nice little boy!" said the weary old grandfather, when his head dropped on the soft pillow now covering the hard arm of the lounge.
"And, gran'sir, I ain't much on readin'; but perhaps, if you'd let me, I might read something, you know."