Part 1 (2/2)

When Ma gits back she sent me to der barber shop to git Fred Hanks ter telerphone ter Dr. Possum. He's der city doctor. He looked at Pa and said he had ammonia. Den Ma she cried, 'cause she had no money ter git supper for us kids and fer the doctor's paper, too.”

”Pretty soon Mrs. Cook, that's Bill's missus, comes in and she said she'd help take care of Pa. The neighbors done all dey could, but we ain't got no money, er no wood, and der rent ain't paid. We ain't had no fire since yisterday, and dis' mornin'

Ma sits down and cries 'cause der's nothin' for der kids ter eat. Her and me don't mind, but we got four girl kids that's hungry all der time. Pa set up in bed and said, 'Go to der mishun man and tell him I mus' see him.' Ma sent me up ter see if yer won't come down ter see Pa.”

Finding a knitted scarf for the boy to tie about his neck, the superintendent and Jimmie started for the sick man's bedside.

The section of the city where the Moore family lived, locally known as Bucktown, contained the only real slums to be found in the busy and rapidly growing metropolis. It was located on a low tract of ground between the city market and the river, and was inhabited chiefly by negroes and very poor white people.

On the way Jimmie continued his story, and the superintendent tried to tell him about the Father above who loves the poor and who sent His Son to die that all the world might live and have access to the unsearchable riches of G.o.d. ”The only help that is sure and lasting,” he said, ”comes from G.o.d. He can find a way out of your trouble for you.”

”I don't see how He kin help us,” replied the boy. ”They won't give us no help at der city hall, 'cause we ain't been here long enough. We ain't no city case er nothin' else, I guess.

The man said he would put us kids in der Children's Home and Pa in der poorhouse, er send us all back ter Dalton. Ma said she'd die widout us kids.”

When the boy stopped talking Morton took him by the hand and told him about the Jesus who loves little boys and their fathers and mothers, and how He would do all things for them. ”If you believe in Him,” said the superintendent, ”you can ask for anything in His name and get it.”

”Where is Jesus?” asked Jimmie.

”He's right here now,” replied Morton. ”You can't see Him, but He's always with us to watch over us and care for us.”

This was a stunner for Jimmie. For a full minute he looked straight ahead of him, as if in deep thought, and then raising his eyes until they met Morton's, said: ”Watcher givin' us, Cully? Do yer tink I am bug-house?”

”No, I don't think you're crazy, but what I have said is true, Jimmie. You can't see the wind, but you know there is wind because you feel it. I cannot see Jesus with my natural eye, but I know He is here, just as well as you know that the wind is blowing.

I trust Him for everything, and He supplies all my needs. I have loved Him and He has kept me for seven years. I never help any one myself; I do it for Him. He gives me the love and the money, and if I help you, you must thank Him and not me.”

”Maybe He loves good boys; but I'm no good, ner never was. He can't love no kid like me, kin he?”

”Yes, my boy, just as much as He does me.”

”Den He don't know me, for everybody dat knows me says I'm bad.

Me Ma, even she says so. I guess He don't love no one in Bucktown.”

”Yes, He loves every one in Bucktown, and He will care for you all if you will trust Him and ask Him for what you need.”

”Kin I ask Him fur somethin' ter eat.”

”Yes, you can, and you'll get it too. But you must love Him and thank Him for what you get.”

Jimmie looked up to see if Morton really meant what he was saying.

When he saw the look of intense earnestness on the superintendent's face he knew that he was not deceiving him.

”I hope He'll help Pa,” said Jimmie thoughtfully. ”I guess he needs it mor'n der rest of us do.”

”If your Pa will tell G.o.d what a sinner he has been and will ask Him for forgiveness, He will help him. G.o.d is a friend of sinners, Jimmie.”

”This is where we live,” said the boy, turning to go into a miserable shack.

The house was one of the most disreputable looking places in the neighborhood. It consisted of a lean-to portion of a house from which the original building had been moved away. There was no wall beneath; the building stood on four posts, one at each corner, and open on all sides, the wind having a clean sweep beneath the floor in every direction. Within there were two rooms. In the front one was a bed upon which the sick man lay, an old table, two chairs and a box to sit on. In the next room an old wood-burning cook-stove, a big box for table and cupboard combined, and a broken mirror const.i.tuted its complete furnis.h.i.+ng. The roof leaked, and most of the s.p.a.ces in the window sashes were filled with rags and paper instead of gla.s.s.

<script>