"You might come and help, Dick," she called, hardly repressing a sob as she spoke. "Look here, I'll help if you'll just come and make some more of them letters. You said you would, you know," added the boy, still piling up the sand. "Oh, Dick, you know I can't; you know I've forgot a'most everything since I've been here;" and this time the little girl fairly burst into tears, and sat down beside the half-filled baskets, and sobbed as though her heart would break. The boy's heart was touched at the sight of her distress, and he ran across to comfort her. "Don't cry, Tiny; I'll help yer, and then we'll try agin at the letters. I know three--A B C: you'll soon find out about the others, and make 'em in the sand for me." But Tiny shook her head. "I'd know 'em if I had a book," she said, sadly; "ain't it a pity daddy ain't got one?" "What 'ud be the good of books to dad?" said Dick. "Harry Hayes has got some, I know; but then he goes to school, and knows all about 'em. There, let's forget we see him with that book yesterday, for it ain't no good for us to think about it," concluded Dick; for he did not like to see Tiny's tears, and the easiest way of banishing them was to forget the original cause, he thought. But the little girl was not of the same opinion. She shook her head sadly as she said-- "I've forgot a'most everything my mother told me." "Oh, that you ain't," contradicted the boy, "You never forget to say your prayers before you go to bed. I wonder you ain't forgot that; I should, I know." "How could you, Dick, if you knew God was waiting to hear you?" said Tiny, lifting her serious blue eyes to his face. "Then why ain't He waiting to hear me?" asked Dick. The question seemed to puzzle the little girl for a minute or two; but at length she said-- "He is, Dick, I think; I'm a'most sure He's waiting for yer to begin." "Then He's waited a good while," said Dick, bluntly; and he got up and began to pull away at the samphire, by way of working off or digesting the wonderful thought. After working away in silence for some minutes, Dick said-- "D'ye think God cares for us down here at Bermuda Point?" Tiny paused, with her hands full of samphire. "Why shouldn't He?" she said. "I know He cares for me. He loves me," she added, in a tone of triumph; "my mother told me so. She said He loved me just as well as she did." "I'd like to know whether He cares about me," said Dick. "D'ye think yer could find out for us, Tiny? Yer see everybody likes you--mother, and father, and Bob; and Harry Hayes showed you his book yesterday. You see you're a gal, and I think you're pretty," added Dick, critically; "so it 'ud be a wonder if He didn't like you." "And why shouldn't He love you, Dick?" said Tiny.