enemies?"

The old wonder--the old question--which must be answered; and Lawrence,
after thinking a moment, said--

"It had to be, Wikkey. He had to die--to die for us. It was like
this:--People were very wicked, always doing bad things, and nobody that
was bad could go to Heaven, but they must be punished instead. But God
was very sorry that none of the people He had made could come and be
happy with Him, so His Son, Jesus Christ, our King, became a Man, and
came down on earth that He might be punished instead of us, so that we
might be forgiven and allowed to come into Heaven. He bore all that for
each of us, so that now, if we believe in Him and try to please Him, we
shall go to be with Him in Heaven when we die."

Lawrence was very far from guessing that his teaching had become
"doctrinal." He had spoken out of the fulness of his own conviction,
quickened into fresh life by the intensity of Wikkey's realization of
the facts he had heard.

"It _was_ good of Him--it _was_ good," the child repeated again and
again, with a world of love shining in his eyes, till, worn out with his
emotion, he fell asleep, and was gently laid by Lawrence in his bed. But
in the middle of the night sounds of stifled weeping aroused Lawrence.

"What is it, Wikkey boy?" he asked, groping his way to him. "Are you
worse?"

"I didn't mean for to wake you; but I wish--I _wish_ I hadn't boned them
coppers off Jim; it makes me feel so bad when I think as the King saw
me;" and Wikkey buried his face in the kind arm which encircled him, in
uncontrollable grief. It needed all Lawrence's assurances that the King
saw his repentance, and had certainly forgiven--yes, and the prayer for
pardon which the young man, blushing red-hot in the darkness at the
unwonted effort, uttered in husky tones, with the child's thin hands
clasped in his own--before Wikkey was sufficiently quieted to sleep
again. Before going down to the office Lawrence wrote to his cousin:

"I can do no more; he has got beyond me. He loves _Him_ more than ever I
have done. Come and help us both."

So Reginald came on such evenings as he could spare, and Wikkey, no
longer averse, listened as he told him of the Fatherhood of God, of the
love of the Son, and of the ever-present Comforter; of creation,
redemption, and sanctification, and all the deep truths of the faith,
receiving them with the belief that is born rather of love than of
reason; for though the acuteness of the boy's qu