Was it
more than a coincidence? This was the sentence which fell upon the
expectant ear:
"My dear, dear brothers and sisters, 'tis a wonderfully happy thing to
be good. It gives a man rare courage. You, most of you, knew poor Bob
Daily. Well, he died this morning. He was not a scrap afraid. I was with
him, and he went away rejoicing. He knew he was going straight away to
Jesus--straight away to the arms of Jesus. He told me a queer thing
which had happened to him when he was a young man. He was falsely
accused of a crime which he had not done. He was put in prison. He had
to stay locked up for what he was innocent of for two years. He said he
guessed who had really done the crime, but he did not like to tell on
this man, who was much worse off than himself. He bore the punishment
for the guilty man, and he had his reward. All the time he was in prison
Jesus remained so close to him that He made his heart sing. He says that
he could look back on that part of his life as the very happiest time
that he had ever spent."
"I'm a bit faint-like," said Sue to her nearest neighbor. "Let me out,
please." The people made way for her, and for a moment or so she leant
against the nearest lamp-post. She did not hear another word of the
sermon. She did not need to. When she felt better she walked back to
Great Anvill Street.
* * * * *
That night, just before Pickles went to bed, Sue sought him.
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