Once Connie said to Giles, when nearly a month had gone by:
"Yer'll 'ave to give up that notion 'bout the country, Giles, for
'tain't true."
"Yus, I believe I must give it up," said Giles.
"Ain't yer anxious now 'bout dear Sue?" asked Connie.
"Not wery," said Giles. "Ef she ain't in the country, the good Lord 'ave
her safe somewhere else--that's wot I'm a-thinkin' of. Father John said
to me we'en he come last as trials of this sort are good for me."
"You 'ave nothing but trials, poor Giles!" said Connie.
"Oh no," answered Giles; "I ha' lots o' blessings--you and Big Ben, the
beautiful Woice, you know. Connie, some'ow I think as my wings is
growin' wery fast. I think w'en they're full-grown----"
"Wot then?" asked Connie.
"Why, I'll fly away. I can't 'ardly believe as a poor little lame boy
like me could fly up higher than the stars, but that's wot 'ull 'appen.
I picter it wery often--me no longer tied down to my bed, but with
wings, flyin' about as strong as the angels. Only Father John says I'll
be higher than the angels, for I'll be one o' the ransomed o' the Lord.
I'll see Father John, too, an' you'll come after a bit, an' Sue 'ull
come. I can't fret no, I can't."
After this Connie went for the doctor, and the doctor said that the boy
was very ill--that he might linger a few weeks more, but his sufferings
were growing less, and that Connie's kind care was effecting wonders for
him.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254