Even though the avowal was delightful, it caused a pang, like a knife-thrust from his accusing conscience.
“I am thankful to hear you say that, but, Nellie, I am not good.”
“Yes, you is, but if you ain’t good, why ain’t you good?”
The logic of the reply of the adult was of the same grade as that of the child.
“I suppose the true reason is because I am bad. I am sorry to say it, but I have drifted far away from where I ought to be.”
The dimpled hand continued to fondle the whiskers, and the little brain was busy, but a wisdom that was more than human guided it. Turning those lustrous blue eyes upon him she softly asked:
“Will you do what I ask you?”
He almost gasped, for he instinctively suspected what was coming, but he answered without hesitation:
“If it is my power I will do it, though it kills me.”