“That telegram I sent may not be received by her.”
“No?”
“No. It was delayed. A lot of messages were delayed. You know, it was to have been delivered to her at the station at San Luis Obispo. But there’s no knowing whether it will be forwarded in time to catch her.”
“Look here, uncle; I’ll tell you a secret. I have prayed, and I’m sure—I just know—my prayer is all right. No harm will come to my mother. She is safe; and she will come back when God wants her to.”
“You seem to be on intimate terms with the Almighty!”
“With who?”
“With God.”
“Why not?” inquired Bobby simply. “Don’t you believe in prayer?”
“Upon my word!” gasped the comedian. “I could have answered that question easily enough yesterday; but now I don’t know what I believe and what I don’t.”
What gem of wisdom might have dropped from Bobby’s lips in commenting upon this strange declaration was lost forever when the janitor of the building suddenly entered the room.