"What story?"
"The story of the Man who died for us."
The boy turned—in wonderment. "I did not know," he said, quickly, "that a man had died for us. What was his name? Why did he do it? My mother never told me that story."
"I think she does not know it."
"Then I'll tell her when I learn."
"Perhaps," said the curate, "she will like to hear it—from you."
Very gently, then, in his deep, mellifluous voice—while the rain beat upon the windows, crying out the sorrows of the poor—the curate unfolded the poignant story: the terms simple, the recital clear, vivid, complete.... And to the heart of this child the appeal was immediate and irresistible.
"And they who sin," the curate concluded, "crucify Him again."
"I love that Jesus!" the boy sobbed. "I love Him—almost as much as mother."
"Almost?"