"I
'xpect it's time for night prayers," she said, with a tremor in her
voice; "and I always say them with mother or Joan." Now she knelt upon
the damp mould, made the Sign of the Cross, and, clasping her
brier-scratched hands, repeated the "Our Father" and "Hail Mary" more
devoutly than ever before. When she came to the special little
petition at the close, "Please, God, take care of Tilderee, and keep
her and Fudge out of mischief," she broke down again, and, weeping
convulsively, threw her arms around the neck of her obstreperous but
loyal playmate and friend, exclaiming, "Oh Fudge! if we ever get safe
home we'll never be naughty again, will we?"
Yet exhausted nature stills even the cry of grief and penitence.
Tilderee, moreover, felt wonderfully comforted by her prayer. To the
pure heart of a child Heaven is ever "close by." From her rude asylum
under the cliff the little wanderer looked across at the sky. It was
clear and bright with myriad stars. Suddenly one flashed across the
broad expanse, blazed from the very zenith, and sped with incredible
velocity down, down, till it disappeared in the depths of the ravine.
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