“Norman nodded.
“‘Not there,—he is God; and he is called the Son of God; he could not do that; but he did this. He came to this world and was born into this world a little child; and when he grew up to be a man, he died a cruel death for you and me—for you and me, little Norman.’
“‘And then will God not punish me now?’ said Norman.
“‘No, not a bit, if you will love the Lord Jesus and be his child.’
“‘What did he do that for?’ said Norman.
“‘Because he is so good he loved us, and wanted to save us and bring us back to be his children, and to be good and happy.’
“‘Does he love me?’ said Norman.
“‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mrs. Meadow. ‘Do you think he came to die for you and doesn’t love you? If you will love and obey him, he will love you for ever, and take care of you;—better care than any one else can.’
“‘There isn’t anybody else to take care of me,’ said Norman. ‘Mother can’t, and father don’t, much. I wish I knew about that.’
“With a look, of wonder and interest, at her daughter, Mrs. Meadow reached after her Bible, without letting Norman down from her lap; and turning from place to place, read to him the story of Christ’s death, and various parts of his life and teaching. He listened, gravely and constantly and intently, and seemed not to weary of it at all, till she was tired and obliged to stop. He made no remark then, but sat a little while with a sober face; till his own fatigue of days past came over him, and his eyelids drooped, and slipping from Mrs. Meadow’s lap, he laid himself down on the hearth to sleep. They put something under his head and sat watching him, the eyes of both every now and then running over.