But the shepherd seemed to have suffered more than the lamb, for he was wounded in many places, and his blood was falling in large drops on the ground. Yet he did not seem to mind it; his face was full of love and full of joy as he looked at the lamb. He had forgotten his sorrow in his joy that the lamb was saved. In the distance were some of the shepherd's friends, who were coming to meet him, and underneath the picture were these words, printed in large letters-- 'Rejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep which was lost. There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.' The little girl read the words aloud in a clear, distinct voice; and her mother gazed at the picture with tears in her eyes. 'Those are sweet words, ain't they?' said the old man. 'Yes,' said the woman, with a sigh; 'I have heard them many times before.' 'Has the Good Shepherd ever said them of _you_, ma'am? Has He ever called the bright angels together and said to them of _you_, "Rejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep which was lost"?' The woman did not speak; a fit of coughing came on, and the old man stood looking at her with a very pitying expression. 'You are very ill, ma'am, I'm afraid,' he said. 'Yes, very ill,' gasped the woman bitterly; 'every one can see that but Augustus!' 'That's my father,' said the little girl. 'No; he doesn't see it,' repeated the woman; 'he thinks I ought to get up and act in the play, just as usual. I did try at the last place we went to; but I fainted as soon as my part was over, and I've been in bed ever since.' 'You must be tired of moving about, ma'am,' said the old man compassionately. 'Tired?' said she; 'I should think I _was_ tired; it isn't what I was brought up to. I was brought up to a very different kind of life from _this_,' she said, with a very deep-drawn sigh. 'It's a weary time I have of it--a weary time.' 'Are you always on the move, ma'am?' asked the old man. 'All the summer-time,' said the woman. 'We get into lodgings for a little time in the winter; and then we let ourselves out to some of the small town theatres; but all the rest of the year we're going from feast to feast and from fair to fair--no rest nor comfort, not a bit!' 'Poor thing! poor thing!' said the old man; and then a choking sensation appeared to have seized him, for he cleared his throat vigorously many times, but seemed unable to say more. The child had climbed on one of the boxes, and brought down a square red pincushion from the shelf which ran round the top of the caravan. From this she took two pins, and fastened the picture on the wooden wall, so that her mother could see it as she was lying in bed. 'It does look pretty there,' said the little girl; 'mammie, you can look at it nicely now.'