"Oh, Paula, how I wish she would get well! Before she became so ill, I didn't care for her a bit, and I believe she didn't care for me either. But after having said good-bye to her that afternoon, I certainly do love her. Poor Catalina! In the middle of the school session, many times it comes to me, 'Suppose that Catalina should die today!' Then I do not seem to be able to pay any more attention to the lessons. It seems as if Catalina was there, dead in her bed, and I hardly dare to come home. If I had not been so wicked to her before she became so ill, I know I would not feel so."
"Now listen, Lisita! This is what you ought to do. You ought to ask the
Lord Jesus to heal Catalina."
"He'd never do it for me," I said.
"And why not?" asked Paula.
"Because I'm sure God doesn't hear the prayers of wicked people."
For a while Paula did not answer me. I saw that she was thinking about what I had just said. Suddenly, a ray of happiness illumined the dear face with its great dark eyes, as-she exclaimed, "Yes, He does hear wicked people."
"How do you know that?" I said.
"Because when Jesus Christ hung on the cross, one of the robbers asked Him to remember him when He came into His kingdom, and the Lord promised to do so."
"Well, then," I murmured, "perhaps the Lord might hear me also."
Paula turned about and faced me. "But, my dear Lisita, you're not wicked."