“I know now what you mean,” replied Faith. “I often wished to go to Sunday-school, but father don’t like it; he’d rayther I stayed to take care o’ Roy.”
“I guess as my father wouldn’t wish it neither. But, Lor’ bless yer! I don’t trouble to obey him. ’Tis werry nice in Sunday-school. Would you like to hear wot they telled us last Sunday?”
“Yes, please,” answered Faith, opening her eyes with some curiosity.
“Well, it wor a real pretty tale—it wor ’bout a man called Jesus. A lot o’ women brought their babies to Jesus and axed Him to fondle of ’em, and take ’em in His arms; and there wor some men about—ugh! I guess as they wor some’ut like father—and they said to the women, ‘Take the babies away as fast as possible; Jesus is a great, great man, and He can’t no way be troubled.’ And the mothers o’ the babies wor going off, when Jesus said—I remember the exact words, for we was got to larn ’em off book—‘Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and don’t forbid ’em;’ and He tuk them ’ere little babies in His arms and kissed ’em. I guess as some of ’em worn’t too clean neither.”
“I wish ever so as I could take Roy to him,” answered Faith. “That’s a real lovely story. Mother, afore she died, telled me ’bout Jesus; but I don’t remember ’bout Him and the babies. Now I must be going home. Thank you, little ragged girl. If you like you may kiss Roy once again, and me too.”
Chapter Three.
Faith and Roy were late, and their father was waiting for them. He was very particular about his meals, which were never entrusted to Faith’s young efforts at cooking, but were sent from a cook-shop close by. Now the potatoes and a little piece of roast beef smoked on the table, and Warden, considerably put out, walked up and down. When the children entered, Roy ran up to his father confidently—he had never been afraid of any one in his life—and wanted a ride now on the tall, strong shoulder.
“Up, up,” said the little fellow, raising his arms and pointing to his favourite perch.