Once when Agnes had been telling them of some of the miracles of our Saviour, in curing the sick, and giving sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf, Rosa with her bright black eyes fixed intently on her face, said with the utmost earnestness:
“Why, He was real good, wasn’t He?”
“Yes,” said Agnes, “always good and kind, and always ready to help the sick and suffering.”
“He could cure anybody, couldn’t He?” continued Rosa.
“Yes; He was all-powerful,” answered Agnes.
“Could He cure Tiney?” asked Jessie.
“Yes; if Tiney had lived when Christ was on earth, or if He was here now, He could say the word, and make her well.”
And then they asked, “Where is He now?” and “How can we talk to Him now?” and “Why will He not cure Tiney now?” And Agnes tried, in the most simple manner, to teach them the nature of the prayer of faith.
Once, when she was talking to them of our Saviour’s meekness under injuries, and telling them of His bitter sufferings, and the kindness of His feelings towards His persecutors, the large tears rolled down their cheeks, and Rosa made a practical application of the lesson at once, by saying:
“The next time Tiney pinches me, cousin Agnes, I don’t mean to slap her back again.”