He laid her down on the bed by Johnny, and the dying boy turned his face towards her, while she put her arms round his neck, and kissed his cheek gently, as if she knew how ill he was. He took her small, soft, warm hand into his own chilly one, and held it fast, while Sandy stood by, scarcely knowing whether joy or sorrow was nearest to him at that moment.
"I'm so glad!" whispered John Shafto. "It's all true, every word of it."
"What is true, my boy?" asked Mr. Mason.
"That about Him leaving the rest, who are safe, and coming after that which is lost," he said, compelled to pause often between the words to gather strength to speak again; "and when He finds us, He is so glad! He's more glad than I am! And He calls all the angels to Him, and says, 'Rejoice with me.' All the world's like little Gip; but He'll be gladder than we are some day when He finds us. It's all true."
"All true!" repeated Mr. Mason.
Sandy fell on his knees beside John Shafto, and stretched his arm over him to feel little Gip.
Johnny's eyes rested on his face with a look of unutterable tenderness.
"He's taken care of little Gip for you," he said; "you must never forget that, or leave off loving Him, though you cannot see Him. You'll be like a son to mother; I'm leaving her to you."
"Oh! Johnny! Johnny!" said Mr. Shafto, in a lamentable voice, "I've been a poor father to you, and a very poor husband to Mary; but say a word to me, as if I'd been all I should have been. Can Christ save me from my idleness and selfishness? If you could but live, and see what a father I would be!"
"Have you been a poor father?" asked Johnny, smiling. "I never thought that, never. But perhaps I've loved mother most; she's been so good to me. She'll be good to Sandy and little Gip now."