“I wish as Jesus wor alive now, and I could take Roy to him,” she said to herself. She felt that if Jesus took Roy in his arms and blessed him, that then he might not miss his mother so much; that the great fact of his having received the blessing of Jesus would make up to him for the loss of his mother.
“But wot’s the use,” continued Faith very sadly to herself, “when Jesus be dead years ago?”
At this juncture in the little girl’s thoughts, the room-door was opened, and a neighbour, who had often been kind to both the children, came in. She had come to borrow a saucepan, and was in a hurry; but seeing the tears on Faith’s cheeks, she stopped to inquire the cause.
“There be nothink wrong wid the little ’un, I ’ope, Faith,” she said.
“Oh, no,” answered Faith. “Roy’s well enough. ’Tis only as I’m so sorry as Jesus is dead.”
Mrs Mason, the neighbour, stepped back a pace or so in some astonishment.
“Bless us and save us!” she exclaimed. “Wot a queer child! But it ain’t true, Faith, fur Jesus ain’t dead. He’s as alive as possible!”
“Do the Bible say that?” asked Faith.
“Yes, the Bible says it h’over and h’over.”
“And could I go to him, and take Roy? Could I, Mrs Mason?”