“You must cheer up, my little one; I’ve come to help you.”
“You must not take it so hard, father. It will all come out for the best. God is not dead; He will not forget me. I’m a tiny mite in body, but you know I’ve a valiant soul. You must cheer up.”
She led him gently to a seat.
“I’ll bring the children now; they’ll be wild with joy when I tell them grandfather is here.”
But at the sight of the children the old man broke completely down and sat with his great head sunk on his breast.
He drew Ruth down and whispered:
“Take them away, dear. It’s too much. I—can’t see them now.”
When she returned from the nursery, he said:
“Come, Ruth, sit beside me and tell me about it, and I’ll see my way clearer how to help you.”
She drew a stool beside his chair, leaned her head against his knee, took one of his hands in hers, and, while his other stroked her raven hair, she gently and without reproach told him all.