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The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 28


page 87



Faith has behaved like a witch all day. She knocked down three crickets and six hymn-books in church this morning, and this afternoon horrified the assembled and devout congregation by turning round in the middle of the long prayer, and, in a loud and distinct voice, asking Mrs. Quirk for "'nother those pepp'mints such as you gave me one Sunday a good many years ago, you 'member. After church, her mother tried a few Bible questions to keep her still.

"Faith, who was Christ's father?"

"Jerusalem!" said Faith, promptly.

"Where did his parents take Jesus when they fled from Herod?"

"Oh, to Europe. Of course I knew that! Everybody goes to Europe."

To-night, when her mother had put her to bed, she came down laughing. "Faith does seem to have a hard time with the Lord's Prayer. To-night, being very sleepy and in a hurry to finish, she proceeded with great solemnity :—'Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name; six days shalt thou labour and do all thy work, and—Oh!' I was just thinking how amused her father must be."

Auntie says many such things. I cannot explain how pleasantly they strike me, nor how they help me.