Warden--for it was he--started, and stared at the furious little creature. He did not say a word, or attempt in his utter astonishment to oppose her. He only gazed hard, as one who was bereft of all reason. "Oh! there is a Jesus Christ, and you sha'n't dare say there ain't," repeated Meg; and then she suddenly flung herself on the floor at his feet, and gave way to the most violent, most passionate sobs he had ever heard proceeding from human breast. He got up and locked the door; then he got water and gave it to Meg. He was kind rather than otherwise to the poor child. When she was better, he even brought her over to sit on the sofa where little Roy had slept his last sleep in that room. "Now, why did you rush in and speak to me in that strange way?" he asked. "'Cause yer drove me near mad. You had no call ter say so dreadful a thing as that my Jesus Christ worn't there." "You believe in Him then?" said Warden. "I believe in Jesus Christ our Lord," said Meg. Her excitement was spent. She spoke quietly, raising her big, black eyes to heaven. There was something in her manner which must have impressed even the most utterly careless and indifferent with its absolute sincerity. Warden was silent, gazing at her curiously, even with admiration. "You must not only believe in Him, you must love Him very much," he said. "Ay, I love Him; I'd die fur Him most willin'," said Meg, clasping her hard hands very tight together. "But He hasn't treated you as He has me," said Warden. "You don't know, you can't even understand, what has happened to me. I was always a most respectable man. I tried to do my duty. I had two children. This day week I had two children, a son and a daughter. Now I have none. They did not die, but they ran away. The boy went first, then the girl. I may never see 'em again." "May be you worn't a werry good father to 'em," said Meg. "May be Jesus let 'em run away so as to show yer how to be a better father to 'em. There is some as beats their children, and some as neglec's 'em. I dunno wot is best. May be Jesus seen as you neglec'ed yer little children." Warden felt the lines tightening round his mouth at these words. It was broad daylight, it was true, and Meg was only a poor, ragged child, but her face was so solemn, and her big eyes shone with so intense a light, and she was so absolutely fearless before him, that he felt impressed, even just a trifle afraid--something as he would have felt had he been looking at an accusing angel. "You may have neglec'ed yer little children," she repeated. When she did so, Warden nodded his head. "It is true," he said. "It is very true, God forgive me; but I never meant it. I fear I was a very hard man."