“Naomi,” she echoed, tilting her head from side to side, as she listened to the soft cadences of the word. “I never heard that name afore. It 'ud look awful swell on a billboard, wouldn't it?”
“It's a Bible name, honey,” Mandy said, eager to get into the conversation. “Dar's a balful picture 'bout her. I seed it.”
“I LIKE to look at PICTURES,” Polly answered tentatively. Mandy crossed the room to fetch the large Bible with its steel engravings.
“We got a girl named Ruth in our 'Leap of Death' stunt. Some of the folks is kinder down on 'er, but I ain't.”
She might have told Douglas more of her forlorn, little friend, but just then Mandy came to the bed, hugging a large, old-fashioned Bible, and Douglas helped to place the ponderous book before the invalid.
“See, honey, dar dey is,” the old woman said, pointing to the picture of Ruth and Naomi.
“Them's crackerjacks, ain't they?” Polly gasped, and her eyes shone with wonder. “Which one 's Ruth?”
“Dis one,” said Mandy, pointing with her thumb.
“Why, they're dressed just like our chariot drivers. What does it say about 'em?”
“You can read it for yourself,” Douglas answered gently. There was something pathetic in the eagerness of the starved little mind.