Molly came in with glowing cheeks and shining eyes. She ran up to her mother, and kissed her pale, tired face.
"Haven't you a kiss for your poor old father, too, Molly?"
The little girl turned towards him, and, springing upon his knee, put her arms around his neck with a loving embrace.
"And what have you been learning at Sunday-school to-day, my dear?" her mother enquired.
"About the Good Shepherd," Molly answered promptly.
"Tell us about Him, dearie."
Molly sat on her father's knee, with his arm around her, whilst she tried to collect her thoughts. It was an effort, and for a moment her face was clouded, then a glimmer of brightness drove away the gloom.
"He is the King of love," she said, nodding her head and smiling.
"Who?" Mrs. Lethbridge asked gently.
"The Good Shepherd—Jesus, you know. He had a lot of sheep, no one can count how many; and He loved them very much. Some did as they were told, and were good. But there was one—I think it was a lamb—because of the picture."