“I ask you, are you a lost sheep? They say you are a black sheep, and I believe it is the black sheep that go astray,” she said, gravely, and folding her hands and contemplating him.
Dick burst out laughing, but when he recovered himself he answered very gravely:
“Indeed, I fear I am a lost sheep, little girl.”
“Well, that is bad, but don’t be frightened. Our Saviour knows where you are, and He will be sure to find you, and fetch you into the fold. Because, you know, He came to seek and to save those that are lost. And what he came to do He will do, and nothing in this world can prevent him.”
“I’ll be shot if that isn’t an encouraging doctrine if it is a true one, little girl. I sometimes wish somebody would find me and fetch me into a place of safety; but I fear I shouldn’t be worth keeping when found, for I am a sad, foolish, naughty sheep, child,” said the young man, with a self-mocking laugh.
“Never mind, don’t make game of yourself. If our Saviour thinks you worth looking for you are too good to be laughed at; and when He does find you and fetch you into the fold, He will make as good a sheep of you as—as—as—” The child seemed at a loss for a comparison, until her face suddenly lighted up, and she said: “As Mr. Alexander himself!”
“As Mr. Alexander himself! Oh, my eye! catch me, somebody! Only there’s nobody to do it!” said Dick, rolling up against the wall and holding his sides.
“What’s the matter? Have you got the stomach-ache? There’s some rum and molasses in the cupboard,” said the child.
“No, oh no!” cried Dick, bursting into vociferous laughter. “You are the solemnest little quiz! To hold up Mr. Alexander as a model for me! Well! I’m bad enough, goodness knows, but—! Why, little one, Mr. Alexander isn’t a sheep at all, either good or bad! He’s a goat, a rank black goat, and never has been in the fold, and never would be let into it!”
“Sir, it is very wrong in you to speak ill of a gentleman so in his absence,” gravely asserted the little monitor.