'He must cry out to the Good Shepherd, and tell Him he's lost, and ask the
Good Shepherd to find him.'
'Well, but first of all, I suppose,' said Jinx, 'he must make himself a bit ready to go to the Good Shepherd—leave off a few of his bad ways, and make himself decent a bit?'
'Oh no!' said Rosalie; 'he'd never get back to the fold that way. First of all, he must tell the Shepherd he's lost; and then the Shepherd, who has been seeking him a long, long time, will find him at once, and carry him on His shoulders home; and then the Good Shepherd will help him to do all the rest.'
'Well, I'll think about what you've said,' Jinx replied. 'Thank you, little 'un.'
John Thomas here pulled up, saying it was two o'clock, and time they had dinner. So the caravans were drawn up by the roadside, and the woman took the dinner from the oven, and Jinx was sent to the next caravan with Lord Fatimore's dinner, and Rosalie, offering to help, was sent after him with the same gentleman's pipe and tobacco.
She found Lord Fatimore sitting in state in his own caravan. He was an immensely fat man, or rather an enormously overgrown boy, very swollen, and imbecile in appearance. He was lounging in an easy chair, looking the picture of indolence. He brightened up a little as he saw his dinner arriving—it was the great event of his day.
When Rosalie returned to the caravan, the woman was alone, stroking Skirrywinks, who was lying on her knee, but looking as if her thoughts were far away.
'Child,' she said to Rosalie, 'I'm not one of the ninety and-nine; I do need repentance; I'm one of the lost sheep.'
'I'm so glad,' said Rosalie; 'because then the Good Shepherd is seeking you: won't you ask Him to find you?'
But before she could answer John Thomas and Jinx came in for their dinner, and they all insisted on Rosalie joining them.