The toys had been reluctantly laid aside and in her dainty nightie the little girl, scarcely more than a baby, knelt at her mother's knee.
The eyes, which all day long are alight with mischief, were reverently closed, and as she haltingly uttered the words of the old, yet ever young child's prayer her rapt face, raised occasionally from her dimpled hands, took on an expression almost seraphic in its innocent purity.
With a fervent "Amen" she ended her supplication, then jumped up, eyes dancing, and exclaimed:
"Now let's say 'Little Jack Horner sat in the corner.' I knows it better, Muvver."
