Giles politely handed his charge over, and went on his way, sincerely hoping that the next to demand his care would be a man.
The Bible-woman drew the arm of poor Mrs Frog through her own, and in a few minutes stood beside her in the desolate home.
“Nobody cares,” muttered the wretched woman as she sank in apathy on her stool and leaned her head against the wall.
“You are wrong, dear Mrs Frog. I care, for one, else I should not be here. Many other Christian people would care, too, if they knew of your sufferings; but, above all, God cares. Have you carried your troubles to Him?”
“Why should I? He has long ago forsaken me.”
“Is it not, dear friend, that you have forsaken Him? Jesus says, as plain as words can put it, ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ You tell me it is of no use to go to Him, and you don’t go, and then you complain that He has forsaken you! Where is my friend Hetty?”
“In hospital.”
“Indeed! I have been here several times lately to inquire, but have always found your door locked. Your husband—”
“He’s in prison, and Bobby’s gone to the bad,” said Mrs Frog, still in a tone of sulky defiance.
“I see no sign of food,” said the Bible-nurse, glancing quickly round; “are you hungry?”