"Whether I'm Mercy or not
don't matter, but I'm a very, very careworn little girl--I'm a little
girl with a deal, a great deal of care on my mind--and I want Jesus
most terrible bad to help me. Mistress Bell, dear Mistress Bell, when
you die and see Jesus, won't you ask Him, won't you be certain sure
to ask Him to guide me too?"
"Why, my darling, He's sure to guide you. There ain't no fear, my
dear life. He's sure, sure to take my Mercy, too, to the Celestial
City when the right time comes."
"But I don't want Him to take me to the Celestial City. I haven't
got to look for nobody in the Celestial City. 'Tis away to France,
down into the south of France I've got to go. Will you ask Jesus to
come and guide me down into the Pyrenees in the south of France,
please, Mistress Bell?"
"I don't know nothing of no such outlandish place," said old Mrs.
Bell, once more irritated and thrown off her bearings, and just at
this moment, to Cecile's serious detriment, Lydia Purcell entered.
Lydia was in one of her worst tempers, and old Mrs. Bell, rendered
cross for the moment, spoke unadvisedly:
"Lydia, I do think you're bringing up the child Mercy like a regular
heathen. She asks me questions as 'ud break her poor father, my son
Robert's heart ef he was to hear. She's a good child, but she's
_that_ puzzling. You bid her mind her sampler, and not worry an
old woman, Lydia Purcell."
Lydia's eyes gazed stormily at Cecile.
"I'll bid her see and do what she's told," she said, going up to the
little girl and giving her a shake.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59