"Certainly," said the old man; "you are quite right. It's time that I was going, only I must just say a word to the children first. I heard them singing their little hymns as I came upstairs."
"Their father likes to hear them."
"It soothes him, I dare say."
"Yes, it sends him to sleep when nothing else will," replied Mrs. Reardon.
Polly and Bessie were very soon quite at home with their new friend, the former sitting close to him, and the latter on his knee, while all three spoke in whispers, for fear of disturbing Matthew Reardon, who had fallen into a troubled sleep, while his wife, as usual, watched and worked by his side.
Bessie was telling him of a wonderful book, which their teacher had been reading to them lately about a certain man called Christian, who left his home and children to go on pilgrimage. She did not understand it very well, she said, or what going on pilgrimage meant, for they were not always able to go to school now that their father was so ill; but the story evidently possessed a strange interest for both the children.
The old clerk told her that he knew it well, and could remember reading it when he was about her age. It was called "The Pilgrim's Progress." He believed he had the book still; if so, he would bring it with him the next time he came, and she might keep it as long as she pleased. And when he added that it was full of pictures, Bessie's joy was complete.
"Polly will read," exclaimed she; "I can't read yet. How happy we shall be!"
"But Polly must have a present too," said the kind old man. "Tell me, my child, what you would like best for me to bring you."
Polly thought for a moment.