It was but natural that the sisters, as they passed to and fro through the crowded thoroughfares in which they dwelt, should talk together about those heavenly things with which their young hearts were filled, while He of whom they spoke drew near and went with them, although their eyes were holden and they saw Him not.
Upon one occasion, a child residing in the same house as the Reardons was run over while crossing Holborn and taken to the hospital, where she died shortly afterwards, in consequence of the injuries which she had received. Mrs. Reardon was very sorry for the poor mother, and felt afraid to trust her own little ones out again, even to attend their Sunday school.
"You need not fear about us, mother," said Bessie, "we shall be quite safe."
"So that poor little girl thought who was buried yesterday," replied Mrs. Reardon.
"Poor Susan!" exclaimed Polly, with tears in her eyes. "But indeed, mother, you need not be afraid because—you tell her, Bessie."
"Because," said little Bessie, "Polly and me always pray when we come to a crossing, and ask the good Lord Jesus to take care of us, and not to let us be run over. I used to be very frightened sometimes, but I don't care a bit now."
"And yet little Susan Grey was run over," replied Mrs. Reardon.
"Maybe she forgot to pray," suggested Bessie, thoughtfully. "Or, perhaps, it was God's will."
"Then even those who do pray are run over sometimes, if it is God's will?" asked Matthew Reardon, looking up from his writing with a curious smile.
"I suppose they are," was the hesitating reply. "But God knows best about everything," added the child, decidedly.