"Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me,
Bless thy little lamb to-night.
Through the darkness be Thou near me,
Bless my sleep till morning light."
It had been the first prayer she had ever learned; but it was only lately that she had come to understand the meaning of the words. To-night, she thought of the Good Shepherd, dwelling upon His love for the little lost lamb, and seeing in her imagination the gentle face of Him who gave His life for His sheep.
Meanwhile, in the cosy parlour behind her shop, Mrs. Mugford was spending the one hour of the day she had to herself. Her Bible lay upon the table at her side, for she had been reading in the Gospel of St. John the story of the Good Shepherd, constrained to do so, doubtless, on account of her conversation with Molly. Now, one could see by the dreamy look on her face, that she was in deep thought.
The truth was, as she had been closing up her shop, she had seen James Lethbridge fling himself out of his cottage door, and it had only needed one glance at his enraged countenance to tell her something had gone wrong in his home. Now, as she sat thinking of her interview with Molly, she thought pitifully of the child's father. She had not given him many thoughts hitherto, except to despise him as a drunkard, and blame him as a neglectful husband and parent; but to-night her reflections of him were softened by the memory of the beautiful words she had just finished reading: "And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: Them also I must bring, and they shall hear My voice."
Mrs. Mugford got up from her chair, and after carefully putting away her Bible in its place, upon the shelf which contained her greatest treasures, she left the house, and crossed the road to Rose Cottage.
"Mrs. Lethbridge will likely be lonely to-night," she said to herself, "and maybe she'll be glad of my company for a while."
She tapped gently at the closed door, and receiving no answer stepped into the dimly-lit kitchen. Mrs. Lethbridge was seated with her hands covering her face, and she was weeping in a hopeless fashion. She looked up with a start as her neighbour entered, and a shamed look crossed her face when she saw who it was.
"I've run in for a few minutes' talk with you," Mrs. Mugford said kindly. "You know I'm all alone of an evening, and sometimes the time hangs heavy."
"I'm all alone, too," Mrs. Lethbridge replied bitterly.
"The children are in bed, and fast asleep, I suppose?" asked Mrs. Mugford.