“That’s better,” said the Missioner.  “And now I will tell you my parable.  Once upon a time there was a little boy or a little girl, it doesn’t matter which, whose father put him in charge of a baby.  He was told not to let anybody take it away from him and he was told to look after it and wheel it about in the perambulator, which was a very old one, and not only very old but very small for the baby, who was growing bigger and bigger every day.  Well, a lot of kind people clubbed together and bought a new perambulator, bigger than the other and more comfortable.  They told him to take this perambulator home to his father and show him what a beautiful present they had made.  Well, the boy wheeled it home and his father was very pleased with it.  But when the boy took the baby out again, the nursemaid told him that the baby had too many clothes on and said that he must either take some of the clothes off or else she must take away the new perambulator.  Well, the little boy had promised his father, who had gone far away on a journey, that nobody should touch the baby, and so he said he would not take off any of the clothes.  And when the nurse took away the perambulator the little boy wrote to his father to ask what he should do and his father wrote to him that he would put one of his brothers in charge who would know how to do what the nurse wanted.”  The Missioner paused to see the effect of his story.  “Now, children, let us see if you can understand my parable.  Who is the little boy?”

A concordance of opinion cried “God.”

“No.  Now think.  The father surely was God.  And now once more, who was the little boy?”

Several children said “Jesus Christ,” and one little boy who evidently thought that any connexion between babies and religion must have something to do with the Holy Innocents confidently called out “Herod.”

“No, no, no,” said the Missioner.  “Surely the little boy is myself.  And what is the baby?”

Without hesitation the boys and girls all together shouted “Jesus Christ.”

“No, no.  The baby is our Holy Catholic Faith.  For which we are ready if necessary to—?”

There was no answer.

“To do what?”

“To be baptized,” one boy hazarded.

“To die,” said the Missioner reproachfully.

“To die,” the class complacently echoed.

“And now what is the perambulator?”

This was a puzzle, but at last somebody tried: 

“The Body and Blood of Our Lord, Jesus Christ.”

“No, no.  The perambulator is our Mission here in Lima Street.  The old perambulator is the Church where we are sitting at Mass and the new perambulator is—­”

“The new church,” two children answered simultaneously.

“Quite right.  And now, who is the nursemaid?  The nursemaid is the Bishop of London.  You remember that last Sunday we talked about bishops.  What is a bishop?”

“A high-priest.”