At last Grannie stepped out and stopped him. “Come home, father,” she whimpered. He looked at her with bewildered eyes, then he looked at the burning house, and he seemed to recover himself in a moment.
“Come home, bogh,” said Grannie tenderly.
“I've got no home,” said Cæsar in a helpless way. “And I've got no money. The fire has taken all.”
“No matter, father,” said Grannie. “We had nothing when we began; we'll begin again.”
Then Cæsar fell to mumbling texts of Scripture, and Grannie to soothing him after her simple fashion.
“'My soul is passing through deep waters. I am feeble and sore broken. Save me, O God, for the waters are come in unto my soul, I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing.'”
“Aw, no Cæsar, we're on the road now. It's dry enough here, anyway.”
“'Many bulls have compassed me; great bulls of Bashan have beset me round. Save me from the lion's mouth; for Thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorn.'”
“Never mind the lion and the unicorn, father, but come and we'll change thy wet trousers.”
“'Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.'”