"Is comets true?"
"Comets?" I inquired; "what do you know of comets?" (One is about due now, and the children are on the tip-toe of excitement.)
"Dada says they has long tails, an' runs up an' down the sky when I'se asleep, like little mouseys."
"You are not afraid of them, are you?" I asked.
"Dunno. I think I is afraid of them, but I always asks God."
"What do you say?" I ventured.
The little head was growing heavier, and it was a very sleepy voice that murmured:
"God bless ev'ybody ... an' don't let them be 'ungry, so they won't die ... until You makes 'em ... 'cept it be comets an' things."
Now what could anybody make of that? I carried the child home, and she did not wake when I undressed her and put her to bed.