"Oh, mummy—mummy—mummy," he wailed.
"Harry!" said Jim again, "here's a penny for you—let's go and buy some sweeties."
But Harry was past that.
"Oh, mummy—mummy—my mummy—I want my mummy."
There was no mistaking the heart-broken cry this time, and Jim looked helplessly at Tom Green who stood beside him.
"It's the old story," said Tom gently, "'They have taken away my Lord and I know not where they have laid him.'" Then he stooped down to the level of the little weeping child and drew him into his arms and turned the tear-stained little face to rest on his shoulder.
"Harry!" he said gently, "dear mummy has gone to live in a beautiful Home with Jesus and she's so happy and she doesn't cough any more or feel tired any more. Oh, she's so happy. And she is with Jesus. She used to tell you about Him, didn't she?"
The comfort of the kind arms and the kind voice, and above all, the words of hope that carried the childish thoughts straight to happiness and seemed to find his mother for him again, comforted the little heart at once, and Harry's sobs came only with a long drawn breath as he listened.
Tom did not wait for an answer, he went on in the same low, soothing tone.
"Jesus has got such a lovely Home ready for dear mummy and He is getting one ready for little Harry too, and one day Jesus will call Harry and he will see Jesus and dear mummy and the beautiful Home and be so happy."