"What is it that people do in church?"
"I do not know," said Dolly. "I never thought about it."
"It is what you do whenever you ask your father or mother for anything. Only that is prayer to your father or mother. This I mean is prayer to God."
"We don't call it prayer, asking them anything," said Dolly.
"No, we do not call it so. But it is really the same thing. We call it prayer, when we speak to God."
"Why should I speak to God, Aunt Harry? I don't know how."
"Why He is our Father in heaven, Dolly. Wouldn't it be a strange thing if children never spoke to their father?"
"But they can't, if they don't know him," said Dolly.
Here followed a strange thing, which no doubt had mighty after-effects. Mrs. Eberstein, who was already pretty well excited over the conversation, at these words broke down, burst into tears, and hid her face in the bedclothes. Dolly looked on in wondering awe, and an instant apprehension that the question here was about something real. Presently she put out her hand and touched caressingly Mrs. Eberstein's hair, moved both by pity and curiosity to put an end to the tears and have the talk begin again. Mrs. Eberstein lifted her face, seized the little hand and kissed it.
"You see, darling," she said, "I want you to be God's own child."