"So it is; but when he came down here, the people wouldn't believe he was God's Son, and so he lived like a poor man—as poor as you and I, I think, Elfie."
But Elfie shook her head. "I'm street rubbish, but you ain't," she said.
"I found a verse about it," said Susie, "where Jesus says how poor he was—'The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.' There; that means Jesus had no home or comfortable bed, he was so poor," said Susie.
Elfie sat looking at her in dumb surprise.
"He was just as poor as me," she said. "Why didn't he go away, and leave the people, if he was God's Son?"
"Because he loved them, and he wanted them to know it; and to know that God loved them too, and wanted them to love him and be happy."
Elfie had never had any one to love her in all her life, and she could but dimly understand what Susie meant; but she did understand it a little, and all the vain longings she had felt when looking at a mother kissing her child sprung up in her heart now, as she said, in a subdued, gentle voice, "I wish he'd love me just a little."
"He does love you," said Susie, "not a little, but a great deal."
"Did he tell you to tell me so?" asked Elfie eagerly.
Susie knew not what to reply to this; but the thought stole into her heart—Was this the work her mother had spoken of—was she to tell Elfie of the love of God, try to make her understand it, and lead her to love him?