Sure enough, one of the little birds hopped back a trifle, balanced himself well on the nest, and, putting up his little throat, trilled a lovely song.
"What does he say?" asked Sate, watching him intently.
"Oh, I don't know," said Miss Sherrill, with a little laugh. Sate was taxing her powers rather too much. "But God understands, you know; and I am sure the words are very sweet to him."
Sate reflected over this for a minute, then went back to the flowers.
"What made Him put the colors on them? Does He like to see pretty colors, do you sink? Which color does He like just the very bestest of all?"
"O you darling! I don't know that, either. Perhaps, crimson; or, no, I think He must like pure white ones a little the best. But He likes little human flowers the best of all. Little white flowers with souls. Do you know what I mean, darling? White hearts are given to the little children who try all the time to do right, because they love Jesus, and want to please him."
"Sate wants to," said the little girl earnestly. "Sate loves Jesus; and she would like to kiss him."
"I do not know but you shall, some day. Now shall we take another line of the hymn?" continued her teacher.
"I tried to teach her," explained Miss Sherrill to her brother. "But I think, after all, she taught me the most. She is the dearest little thing, and asks the strangest questions! When I look at her grave, sweet face, and hear her slow, sweet voice making wise answers, and asking wise questions, a sort of baby wisdom, you know, I can only repeat over and over the words:
"'Of such is the kingdom of heaven.'