Molly paused, glancing from one listener's face to the other, but meeting her mother's encouraging smile, continued more fluently—
"There was one little lamb that wouldn't listen to the Good Shepherd, and was very naughty, and was lost!"
A troubled look crossed the child's face; the ready tears welled up into her blue eyes, but in a moment the shadow had fled again, and she continued in quick, glad tones, "But Jesus found him at last, after a long, long while, and brought him home quite safe—the naughty little lamb! Father, did you ever hear about it all before?"
"Seems to me I have, Molly, years and years ago."
"Do you know how the Good Shepherd found the little lamb, father?"
"No, my dear, I don't."
"He went about calling the little lamb's name, and at last the little lamb heard. I 'spect he came running when he heard the Good Shepherd's voice. There's a picture of Jesus with the little lamb on His shoulder in Mrs. Mugford's shop, father. That's how I know 'twas such a weeny, weeny lamb."
"Is there?" said her father.
"Why, so there is, Molly," Mrs. Lethbridge said smiling. "I saw it in the window yesterday."
"I 'spect it would cost a lot of pennies to buy it; wouldn't it, mother?"