Then, scanning the pathetic little faces before her, she called upon the children singly, according to the amount of religious instruction each had received, and listened lovingly to their petitions. Jimmie recited what he said was a "Cath'lic pra'r--three or four on 'em." Johnnie knew "a 'Piscopal one." Willie's "Baptis' pra'r" came next. Leathie, Leon and Bobbie lisped "Now I lay me down to sleep," and each received a kiss from Mollie when the prayer was finished. Then came the "Our Father" prayer, which they said in unison, Mollie leading and even poor Splutters trying to join. "'Tain't every night we kin pray so much," said Mollie as she dispersed the children to bed, "but this was special. All God's sparrows make a lot o' fuss an' mebbe thet's why they git all th' 'tention. But I reckon we beat 'em ter-night." Work on the "bigger and better kite" progressed under difficulties but they finished it at last. It was sent up, as the reader already knows, with a success that argued well for the future. Mollie was sure that at last they had, by the very persistency of their efforts, brought their deplorable situation to the attention of One able to combat even the terrible Peter Grimes. "Yo' jes' wait an' see," she would reiterate as they bent their youthful backs over their imposed tasks in the garden. "Sumpin's a'goin' ter happen right soon. I feel hit a-comin'." Then Peter strode in among them and turned his terrible eyes upon Cynthy. "Yo' come with me," he muttered, grasping her roughly by the arm. With a scream the child tried to wrench herself loose. She thought he meant to kill her. "Shet up," he commanded, increasing the pressure on her arm and dragging her, regardless of her struggles, back toward the barn. There he released her, with a final warning to keep quiet. "G'wan an' wash yer face an' git yer shoes," he told her. She fled to do his bidding. But the shoes she had brought with her were far too small. She had to carry them, as before, over her arm. Where he purposed taking her, Cynthy did not know; she dared not ask. Meekly she followed Peter through the gate and, at his command, climbed into the ramshackle buggy. He writhed down into the seat beside her. "I laid off ter fling yo' ter th' hawgs," he grumbled, as he picked up the lines that hung loosely on old Walter's back, "but yer paw's a-waitin fer yo' in Chicawgy. Thar you'll be so plumb fur away 'twon't hurt nawthin'. Yo' kin tell yer Paw th' leetle feller died." Cynthy heard the words but they fell unheeded after the first sentence which told her that her father was still alive. He was waiting for her! She was going to him! He had sent for her! "Oh, glory!" she gasped, as the tears trickled slowly over her pale cheeks. "An' I was th' only one who didn't feel ter b'lieve Mollie when she tol' us sumpin' jes' nachully was gwine fer ter happen, once God tuk a soon start."