‘Poor, weak, and worthless.’
“‘I am all that,’ thought Clary, ‘but if this rich friend loves one poor person he might another. ‘Jesus, the Saviour’—that must be the same that the other verse speaks of. ‘How happy are they who the Saviour obey—’ O I wish I knew how—I would do anything in the world to be happy! And I suppose all these rich people know all about him, and obey him, and that makes them so happy; for if he loves poor people he must love the rich a great deal more.’
“One o’clock!
“The great clock struck, and the people came tramping back to their work, or rose up from the corners where they had been eating such dinner as they had brought. Clary had forgotten all about hers—certainly it was an easy dinner to forget—but all the afternoon as the press kept on its busy way, she lived upon those two verses which she had learned by heart.
“She had no chance to read more when they left off work at night; but all the way home she scarce saw either rich or poor for the intentness with which her mind studied those words, and the hope and determination with which she resolved to find out of whom they spoke. She almost felt as if she had found him already—it seemed as if she was less friendless than she had been in the morning; and though once and again the remembered words filled her eyes with tears, any one who knew Clary would have wondered at the step with which she went home.”
“Where did she read those words?” said Carl, who had listened with deep attention.
“On my 272d page,” replied the hymn book. “For it so happened that I was printing that very day.”
Carl turned to the 272d page and read the words, and then shutting the hymn book desired him to go on with his story.
“‘What made you so early, Clary?’ said her mother, who had got home first.
“‘Early is it?’ said Clary, when she could get breath to speak—for she had run up all the three pair of stairs to their little room. ‘It’s the same time as always, mother—only maybe I walked fast. O mother! I’ve had such a happy day!’