And so I read, at the foot of gorgeously-illuminated pages, how—
"Henny Penny and Ducky Lucky got started for the fair,
When Goosie Poosie and Turkey Lurkey went out to view the air," etc.,
the range of characters swiftly widening as the narrative increased in power. To my surprise, the mature child listened to this nonsense with the utmost gravity and interest. No shadow of derision played on her attentive features. When I had finished—it was soon finished—she said:—
"Oh, that sounded so good; it made such good sense," and sighed, very wistfully.
"Do you want me to read it again?" I exclaimed, in despair.
Would I read it again? she asked.
I read it again.
After that she was silent and thoughtful for some time. Then she said, looking gravely into my face:—
"Do you love Jesus?"
"No, my dear," said I, surprised into much gentleness.