Sadie could not imagine what he meant; her grandfather sat at ease in his big leather-covered chair, and was not in a tight place at all. But she was disappointed at his telling her to run away and not ask any more questions for five minutes. If she only had a mamma, Sadie thought, she would ask her all the questions she pleased, for her friend Trudie Brown said that mammas never got tired of answering. But Sadie’s mamma went to heaven when she was a wee baby. She went away to think it over, as she had to do with so many of her puzzles, only to have it added to presently by words from her grandmother. “I declare!” said that good woman, coming in from the back yard, where she had been talking to Tony, the errand-boy, “that boy is a perfect heathen.” Sadie nearly dropped her dollie with a china head on the floor, in her dismay. “Is he truly, Grandma?” she asked. “Yes, he is,” said grandmamma, with emphasis; “I don’t believe there is a greater heathen in the depths of Africa than Tony. I have been trying to explain the simplest matter to him, and he does not understand me as well as a child of three ought to.” “How should he?” asked grandfather, to whom this sentence was chiefly addressed; “he has never had any chance to learn. The whole settlement over there where he came from live like heathen, and know no better.” Then came one of Sadie’s startling questions: “Grandfather, is he one of those who were given to Jesus?” [Illustration: THINKING IT OVER.] “What?” asked grandfather, in astonishment. He had already forgotten the morning’s questions. “Why, isn’t he one that you read about, out of the Bible, that was given to Jesus?” “Oh!” said grandfather, “I suppose so; why, yes, child, certainly. Jesus came to save him, as well as other heathen.” “Does he know it?” “What a child you are!” said grandmother; but as this was no answer Sadie waited, looking at her grandfather. “I doubt if he does,” he said at last, “or would understand if he was told.” “Why, then he ought to be told over and over, ever so many times, as you said you had to do with Bruce before he understood that he was to stand on his hind feet and ask for a bone, oughtn’t he?” Both grandfather and grandmother began to laugh, though Sadie had no knowledge of what there was to laugh about; she was often treated in this way, and did not understand it. She turned away with a dignified air, a trifle hurt that her logic should produce only laughter; but there was decision as well as dignity in the tone in which she said: “I mean to tell him.” That was the beginning of effort for Tony Black, as he was called for convenience, though his full name was Antony Blackwell.