“I mean,” said Faith, “as I thought as Jesus lived somewhere, in London maybe, and that we might go to Him and tell Him ’bout our little Roy. I wor told as He worn’t dead—I mean that He did die, but He woke up again. Ef He’s alive, why shouldn’t He live in the place where the most babies ’ere, Meg?”
“Oh, dear!” answered Meg, “ain’t you a queer ’un! You’re a deal better dressed than me, and you’re so clean that there ain’t a speck nowhere, and you look as ef you allers had yer fill o’ vickles. You h’an’t never a rag nowhere, but fur h’all that I never did meet a more h’ignorant gal—where was yer riz, Faith?”
“I think ’tis ’cause my mother died,” said Faith. “I know as I am very ignorant; I’m ever so sorry.”
“Well, never mind,” replied Meg, “’tis fun rayther teaching yer, only you won’t mind ef I laugh now and then; why, Faith, Jesus is h’up in Heaven now. He ha’ most wonderful powers of hearing tho’, and ef we speak in a whisper a’most down on earth He can tell wot we are a saying. He ain’t never a living in London tho’, but He’s alive, and can hear what we say, fur h’all that.”
“And will He help us?” asked Faith; “is He real sorry fur us, and will He help us?”
“Yes, He has a most desp’rate tender heart. I know as He will answer us, fur I told Him all about Charlie, and it wor arter-wards as I larned wot a deal He ha’ done fur him.”
“What did He do, Meg?”
“Why He tuk him out o’ the arms o’ death, and carried him straight away up to Heaven. That’s wot He does to all the dead babies, He takes ’em in His arms up to Heaven. I know a hymn ’bout that, ’tis called, ‘Safe in the arms of Jesus.’ I’ll sing it fur you another time.”
“But I don’t want Him to take Roy to Heaven,” said Faith; “I want my little Roy safe back again wid me. He wanted for nothink when he wor with me. I don’t wish him to be tuk so far away.”
“Well, we’ll axe that it may be so; let’s kneel down now on the grass, and I’ll say the words this ’ere time, and then you’ll larn how He likes to be spoke to.”