“I am the good–” Peter got so far and then stopped, stolid.
“I know,” cried Elsmere once more. “Put in his thumb, pull out a plum, good boy am I!”
The others snickered, and Hannah bit her lip. “No. ‘I am the good shepherd.’ It was Jesus who said it. Now all of you say it together.”
Lamblike, they followed her lead, and she succeeded in passing over several minutes. But they soon grew restive again, and one little hand pawed the air.
“Well, what is it?”
“The Grahams is coming to our house to dinner.”
“That’s nice. Now we will talk about the shepherd psalm. How many of you know it?”
198There was a moment of doubt. “Shall not want?” ventured one of the older ones presently.
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” said Hannah gladly. “You’ve all heard it lots of times. Now I’ll recite it for you, and then you can tell me what it means.”
With the Bible prudently open to save her from any possible embarrassment at a sudden lapse of memory, she began slowly to recite the psalm, pausing for explanatory comments as she went along.