'You are not my father. Where is my father and my mother?'
'They are in the next room, asleep. They have given Me their bed. And, because they have done so, I am your Father too. So in your sleep you smiled?'
'Did I? I expect it was because I dreamed that I was happy.'
'Was your happiness but a dream?'
'While I was asleep. Now I am awake I know I'm happy.'
'But you are lame?'
'So's father. I don't mind being lame if father is.'
The Stranger was still. He smiled, and touched the child upon the shoulder. And the boy gave a sudden cry. He drew up his night-shirt, and looked down at his right leg.
'Why, it's straight!--like the other.' He began to move about the room. 'I'm not lame! I'm not lame!' All aglow with excitement, he went running through the door. 'Father! mother! my leg's gone straight! I can run about like other boys. Look!--I'm no longer lame!'
When his mother saw that it was so, she took him into her arms and cried: