“If I am drowned, you’ll tell Father and Mother how brave I was, won’t you?” he said. “Father can have my Waterbury watch, and Mother can keep my seal ring if she wants it. It’s too small for her to wear, but she might like to have it to remember me by. I guess I’ll let you have my magic lantern and the Punch and Judy show, Geraldine, but you must be very careful of them, because, you know, I might not be dead, after all. I might be rescued, and carried off on a ship, and sold for a slave, like the boy in that book we read, and when I come back of course I’d want my things, and—” Here another big wave sent the steamer over on her side again, and brought Jerry’s remarks to a sudden conclusion. Geraldine screamed, and clutched Gretel tight.
“I don’t want to be drowned—I don’t want to be drowned!” she wailed. “We’ve been dreadfully naughty, and perhaps God won’t let us go to Heaven.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure He will,” soothed Gretel. “Let’s say our prayers. We haven’t said them to-night. I’m sure God will take care of us if we ask Him.”
“Yes, let’s say our prayers,” agreed Geraldine, eagerly. “I was so sick I forgot all about saying them before, but I’ll do it now. You say yours too, Jerry; we’ll all say them together.”
So the three children folded their hands, reverently, and repeated the evening prayer they all knew:
“Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me,
Bless thy little lamb to-night;
Through the darkness be Thou near me;
Keep me safe till morning light.”
And after that although the storm continued, and the little steamer pitched and plunged as much as ever, things did not seem quite so terrible as they had before. Gretel seemed so certain that God would take care of them, and somehow the twins had come to have a great deal of faith in Gretel.