"But it ain't nice to think on now," repeated Mrs. D'Albert, in a fretful, anxious key. "I ha' got to go, and I ain't ready to go, that's the puzzle." "Perhaps it don't take so very long to get ready," answered the child, in a perplexed voice. "Cecile," said Mrs. D'Albert, "you're a very wise little girl. Think deep now, and answer me this: Do you believe as God 'ull be very angry with a poor woman who had never, no never a moment of time to get ready to die?" "Stepmother," answered Cecile solemnly, "I don't know nothink about God. Father didn't know, nor my own mother; and you say you never had no time to know, stepmother. Only once--once----" "Well, child, go on. Once?" "Once me and Maurice were in the streets, and Toby was with us, and we had walked a long way and were tired, and we sat down on a doorstep to rest; and a girl come up, and she looked tired too, and she had some crochet in her hand; and she took out her crochet and began to work. And presently--jest as if she could not help it--she sang. This wor what she sang. I never forgot the words: "'I am so glad that Jesus loves me; Jesus loves even me.' "The girl had such a nice voice, stepmother, and she sang out so bold, and seemed so happy, that I couldn't help asking her what it meant. I said, 'Please, English girl, I'm only a little French girl, and I don't know all the English words; and please, who's Jesus, kind little English girl?' "'Oh! _don't_ you know about Jesus?' she said at once. 'Why, Jesus is--Jesus is----Oh! I don't know how to tell you; but He's good, He's beautiful, He's dear. Jesus loves everybody." "'Jesus loves everybody?' I said. "'Yes. Don't the hymn say so? Jesus loves even me!'" "'Oh! but I suppose 'tis because you're very, _very_ good, little English girl,' I said. "But the English girl said, 'No, that wasn't a bit of it. She wasn't good, though she did try to be. But Jesus loved everybody, whether they were good or not, ef only they'd believe it.' "That's all she told me, stepmother; but she just said one thing more, 'Oh, what a comfort to think Jesus loves one when one remembers about dying.'" While Cecile was telling her little tale, Mrs. D'Albert had closed her eyes; now she opened them. "Are you sure that is all you know, child, just 'Jesus loves everybody?' It do seem nice to hear that. Cecile, could you jest say a bit of a prayer?" "I can only say, 'Our Father,'" answered Cecile. "Well, then, go on your knees and say it earnest; say it werry earnest, Cecile." Cecile did so, and when her voice had ceased, Mrs. D'Albert opened her eyes, clasped her hands together, and spoke: "Jesus," she said, "Lord Jesus, I'm dreadful, bitter sorry as I never took no time to get ready to die. Jesus, can you love even me?" There was no answer in words, but a new and satisfied look came into the poor, hungry eyes; a moment later, and the sick and dying woman had dropped asleep. CHAPTER IV. TOBY.