“When are you going to begin, granp?” she demanded anxiously.

“Now.  I think we will begin with learning you the Lord’s prayer,” he said huskily, feeling that something was expected of him, and he must not fail.  “Now, ‘Our Father—­’”

“I know that already,” said Jessie reproachfully; “but why is it called the ‘Lord’s Prayer,’ granp?  Did the Lord have to say it when He was little?”

“No.  He told it for all little children to say, all the world over, and big children too, and men and women.”

Jessie looked awed and puzzled.  “How did everybody all over the world know about it, granp?  They couldn’t all hear Him say it,” she asked.

“No, and they don’t all know it yet, though it’s nearly one thousand nine hundred years ago since the Lord spoke it.  But they will in time,” said the old man softly, as though speaking to himself.  “He left word with His people that they were to teach each other, and they did.  You see there wasn’t such a great many heard Him, but those that did went about and taught others, and then those they taught taught others again, and—­”

“And then some one taught you, and,” her face growing suddenly bright, “I’ll have to teach somebody.  Who shall I teach, granp?  Granny knows it, doesn’t she?”

Her grandfather smiled.  “She knew it before she was your age, child,” he said gently.

“Then I’ll teach mother.”

“Your mother knew it too before she was so old as you are.”

“Did she?” said Jessie, surprised.  “She never said anything to me about it, then.”

“Well, hadn’t we best be getting on with the lesson?” asked grandfather; “time is passing, and we haven’t hardly begun yet.”

Jessie settled back in her chair, and leaning her head against her grandfather, listened quietly while the old man talked reverently to her of her Father in heaven.

“Is He mother’s ‘our Father,’ too, granp?” she asked at last.

“Yes, child, mother’s and father’s.”

“Then He’ll take care of her, won’t He, and see that she doesn’t cry too much for me?”

“Yes.  He soothes all the sorrows and wipes away all the tears of them that love and trust Him.  Now shall we read a hymn?  I like the hymns dearly, don’t you, little maid?”

“Oh yes, I love them,” said Jessie, sitting up and clasping her hands eagerly.  “Let’s sing it, granp, shall we?”

“Go on, then.  You take the lead.”

“What’s the lead, granp?” she asked anxiously.

“You start the tune.  You begin and I’ll join in.”

But Jessie grew suddenly shy.  “No, I—­I can’t,” she said nervously, sliding her soft little hand into her grandfather’s rough one as it lay on his knee.  “You begin, granp, please—­no, let’s begin together, and we’ll sing ‘Safe in the arms of Jesus,’ shall we?  I know all of that.”

So together rose the old voice and the young one, the first quavering and thin, the other tremulous and childlike, and floated out on the still warm summer air.  Mrs. Dawson, reluctant to disturb them, waited in the kitchen with the tea-tray until they had ended, and the tears stood in her eyes as she listened.