"'Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little—'"
He sighed painfully as the last words trailed from his lips. Flea ended his quotation, saying:
"'A little child.' But, Flukey, Jesus is dead and buried."
"No, no, He isn't, child!" cried Ann sharply. "He'll never die. He will always help little children."
"Ain't He a restin' in the dead man's yard out there?"
demanded Flea, lifting her robe as she moved toward Ann.
"No! indeed, no! He is everywhere, with the dead and the living, with men and women, and also with little children."
"Where be He?" Flea asked.
"In Heaven," replied Ann, leaning over Flukey. "And He's able even to raise the dead."
Flea grasped her arm.