One of Molly’s grunts came now; she did not understand this or could not believe.  Daisy looked on, pitiful and very much perplexed.

“Molly, you have a great Friend in heaven,” said the child; “don’t you know it?  Jesus loves you.”

“H—­n?”—­said Molly again.

“Don’t you know what he did, for you and me and everybody?”

Molly’s head gave sign of ignorance.  So Daisy sat down and told her.  She told her the story at length; she painted the love of the few disciples, the enmity of the world, the things that infinite tenderness had done and borne for those who hated goodness and would not obey God.  Molly listened, and Daisy talked; bow, she did not know nor Molly neither; but the good news was told in that poor little house; the unspeakable gift was made known.  Seeing Molly’s fixed eyes and rapt attention, Daisy went on at length and told all.  The cripple’s gaze never stirred all the while, nor stirred when the story came to an end.  She still stared at Daisy.  Well she might.

“Now Molly,” said the child, “I have got a message for you.”

“H—­n?” said Molly, more softly.

“It is from the Lord Jesus.  It is in his book.  It is a message.  The message is, that if you will believe in him and be his child, he will forgive you and love you; and then you will go to be with him in heaven.”

“Me?” said Molly.

“Yes,” said Daisy, nodding her little head with her eyes full of tears.  “Yes, you will.  Jesus will take you there, and you will wear a white robe and a crown of gold, and be with him.”

Daisy paused, and Molly looked at her.  How much of the truth got fair entrance into her mind, Daisy could not tell.  But after a few minutes of pause, seeing that Daisy’s lips did not open, Molly opened hers and bade her “Go on.”

“I am afraid I haven’t time to-day,” said Daisy.  “I’ll bring my book next time and read you the words.  Can you read, Molly?”

“Read? no!”—­

Whether Molly knew what reading was, may be questioned.

“Molly,” said Daisy lowering her tone in her eagerness,—­“would you like to learn to read yourself?—­then, when I am not here, you could see it all in the book.  Wouldn’t you like it?”

“Where’s books?” said the cripple.

“I will bring the book.  And now I must go.”

For Daisy knew that a good while had passed; she did not know how long it was.  Before going, however, she went to see about the fire in the stove.  It was burnt down to a few coals; and the kettle was boiling.  Daisy could not leave it so.  She fetched more wood and put in, with a little more kindling; and then, leaving it all right, she was going to bid Molly good-bye, when she saw that the poor cripple’s head had sunk down on her arms.  She looked in that position so forlorn, so lonely and miserable, that Daisy’s heart misgave her.  She drew near.

“Molly—­” said her sweet little voice, “would you like your tea now? the water is boiling.”