“There were ever so many people drowned in that flood, I have heard,” said Dora. “Anyhow I ought to be grateful to God for sparing my life.”
“I say, Dora. We’re both in the same boat. You know when I was shoved out into the river in my swimming suit, my clothes were lying on the shore. I’ll bet my ma is crying now.” And Clarence rubbed his shirt sleeves over his eyes.
“I miss my brothers and sisters so much,” continued the girl. “Ben and his wife are good and kind, but I do get so homesick. Sometimes I am so lonely.”
“I haven’t got any sisters to miss me,” pursued the boy. “I had two, but both of them were travelling with pa once in Mexico and they drank some polluted water and died of typhoid fever within two days of each other. And my little brother died when he was five. And now my father and mother will think I am dead, too.”
Again Clarence used his shirt sleeves to wipe his brimming eyes.
“Sometimes Clarence, I dream that I’m home again and that mama is holding me in her arms and kissing me, and then I’m so happy till I wake; and then sometimes I dream that I’m receiving Holy Communion, and I’m as happy as can be.”
“You are?” said Clarence.
“Of course. Why, I have not received Our Lord for months, and I’m—I’m just hungry for Him.”
“Dora, you are a good fellow.”
“You told me that last night.”