"Why?"
"So that they will be saved. Because it was Christ's command that His disciples should give the message. I am His disciple, so I have to tell the message."
"Was there any special stipulation as to whom that message should be given?" asked the young man thoughtfully. "Did He say you were just to give it to those boys?"
"Why, no; it was to be given to—all the world, every creature." Shirley spoke the words hesitatingly, a dimple beginning to show in her cheek as her eyelids drooped over her shy eyes.
"And don't I come in on that?" asked Graham, with a twinkle that reminded Shirley of his father.
Shirley had to laugh shamefacedly then.
"But I couldn't!" said Shirley. "I'd be so scared I couldn't think of a thing to say."
"You're not afraid of me, Miss Shirley? You wouldn't be scared if you thought I really needed to know the message, would you? Well, I really do, as much as any of those kids."
Shirley looked steadily into his earnest eyes and saw something there that steadied her nerve. The laughter died out of her own eyes, and a beautiful light of longing came into them.
"All right," she said, with a little lift of her chin as if girding up her strength to the task. "You may come, and I'll do the best I can, but I'm afraid it will be a poor best. I've only a little story to tell them this morning."