He said this with a smile, as Claude and Ruth came bounding up to their sister.
Prissy's heart was too full for speech; any words of commendation from her father were precious to her.
They walked home almost in silence after that.
Then nurse having come to take the children off for a walk, and Dr. Warner having gone indoors, Priscilla set off to a neighbouring village to visit some poor people, amongst whom, by her kind words and actions, she was helping on the kingdom of God. In more than one family she had acted as a peacemaker; and there were little children there into whose young hearts she had dropped a seed of heavenly love, which already had proved to be the beginning of that kingdom of God which is within us.
Into one house she entered—a small, poor cottage, but spotlessly clean. A widow woman, with a baby in her arms, stooped over a bed where lay a little boy of some five years. She raised her head as the step drew nearer, and a look of pleasure and relief shone in her eyes as she recognized the visitor.
"O Miss Warner," she exclaimed, "I be so glad to see ye! Charlie's worse, the doctor says. He's as bad as can be. And oh, but, miss, my heart's broke! My pretty lamb! I can't part from him, the darling!"
"I am so sorry, Mrs. Watts," said Prissy. "Has Charlie been long ill? Why did you not tell me sooner?"
"Well, you see, miss, I'd none to send. And when he was first took ill, he called for you—he did. But now I scarce think he'll know you."
Priscilla bent over the dying child and spoke some words to him; but the little fellow's face was turned away, the bright eyes closed in unconsciousness. It was the mother, not the child, she had to comfort that day.
She knew, although their eyes were too dim to see them, angels were round the little sufferer, helping him and ministering to him; and, better than all, the loving arms of Jesus were extended to receive the soul of the little one to himself.