A mother living not very far from the post-office in this city, tired
with watching over a sick baby, came down stairs for a moment the other
day for a few second's rest. She heard the voice of her little,
four-year-old girl in the hall by herself, and, curious to know to whom
she was talking, stopped for a moment at the half-opened door. She saw
that the little thing had pulled a chair in front of the telephone, and
stood upon it, with the piece against the side of her head. The earnestness
of the child showed that she was in no playing mood, and this was the
conversation the mother heard, while the tears stood thick in her eyes;
the little one carrying on both sides, as if she were repeating the
answers:
[Illustration]
"Hello."
"Well, who's there?"
"Is God there?"
"Yes."
"Is Jesus there?"
"Yes."
"Tell Jesus I want to speak to him."
"Well?"
"Is that you, Jesus?"
"Yes. What is it?"
"Our baby is sick, and we want you to let it get well. Won't you, now?"
No answer, and statement and question again repeated, and finally answered
by a "Yes."
The little one put the ear-piece back on its hook, clambered down from
the chair, and with a radiant face, went for her mother, who caught her
in her arms.
The baby whose life had been despaired of, began to mend that day and
got well.
--_Elmira Free Press_