It so happened that, a day or two after, Mr. Sutherland took him away from his regular work in the field, and sent him into the barn to receive the loads of hay which were being brought in from the field. Tom was always glad of these occasional changes, because they rested him from more fatiguing work, and often gave him a few minutes in which to study. He brought his Bible and his arithmetic with him when he came out this morning, and it so happened that he found leisure to give them attention, for the field from which the hay was being brought was at a considerable distance, and it took some time for them to come with the loads. During one of these leisure times he had seated himself on the step of the great door at the back of the barn, and was intent upon his Bible, when he heard some child’s voice singing, and looking up he saw, just coming into the barn at the other end, Lillie Sutherland, whom he had not seen since the first evening he spent at the house. She saw him just as he looked up, and stopped both her walk and her music, and stood looking at him. She was a pretty little creature to see, but Tom did not wait for that. “Miss Lillie, can’t you come here and see me?” asked he. She shook her head, but stood still with her eyes still fixed upon him, and then suddenly stepped very quickly forward. “Oh, are you the boy that writes for papa?” she asked. “Yes, Miss Lillie,” replied Tom; “do you remember me?” “Certainly I do. Sing ‘Jesus loves me.’” So Tom, amused at her manner, but very well content to do as she asked, sung the hymn through to a very attentive listener; but to his astonishment, when he had finished she asked him the same question as once before. “Do you love Jesus?” “Yes,” replied Tom--adding quietly, “do you?” “Yes,” she returned; “I cannot help it, because he is so kind; but mamma does not like it, nor papa, very much.” Tom was not astonished, only grieved, but he said as calmly as before, “That makes no difference.” “Ought I to love Jesus just the same, and pray to him just the same, if mamma does not like it?” “What has Jesus done for you?” asked Tom. “He died for me,” she replied, as if it were a needless question. “Yes,” replied Tom, with a smile, turning over the leaves of his Bible, “he died for you and me.” “Well, what then?” asked the child, waiting to see what was coming next, but getting no word. “Why,” said Tom, looking up, “I think when anybody has died for me, I can never do enough for them if I work all my life.” She stood for several minutes after that, with her eyes away out in the green fields, and then she said suddenly: “Does God love you just as well as he does me, when you are black and I am white?” Tom’s lip took a sorrowful curve for an instant, and then he replied, “Just as well;” and the words were very decided. She gave him another good look out of her great black eyes, and then seating herself on the step, she said: “Read.”