“Yes, Hughie,” replied his mother, “all those who do not repent of their sins and cry to God for mercy.”
“Oh, mother,” cried Hughie, “forever?”
His mother did not reply.
“Will He never let them out, mother?” continued Hughie, in piteous appeal.
“Listen to me, Hughie,” said his mother, very gently. “We know very little about this. Would you be very sorry, even for very bad men?”
“Oh, mother,” cried Hughie, his tender little heart moved with a great compassion, “think of a whole year, all summer long, and all winter long. I think I would let anybody out.”
“Then, Hughie, dear,” said his mother, “remember that God is much kinder than you are, and has a heart far more tender, and while He will be just and must punish sin, He will do nothing unjust or unkind, you may be quite sure of that. Do not forget how He gave up His own dear son for us.”
Poor Hughie could bear it no longer. He put his head in his mother's lap and sobbed out, “Oh, mother, I hope he will let them out.”
As he uttered this pitiful little cry, his cousin Harry got up from his chair, and moved across to the window, while Maimie openly wiped her eyes, but Ranald sat with his face set hard, and his eyes gleaming, waiting eagerly for Mrs. Murray's answer.
The mother stroked Hughie's head softly, and while her tears fell on the brown curls, said to him, “You would not be afraid to trust your mother, Hughie, and our Father in heaven loves us all much more than I love you.”