“Oh, Aunt Elizabeth doesn't like him to sleep in the house, so he sleeps in the stockman's spare room.”
The child bent her head in thought for a moment or two. “About ten, I think, Uncle Tom. He is really and truly such a good boy--Uncle Westonley says so, but Aunt Elizabeth says he is godless and an 'incubus.' What _does_ incubus mean? I am one too.”
“Nothing, nothing very much, little one,” said Gerrard, as he held the breast of the wild duck he had plucked over the glowing coals of his fire; “you see, your Aunt Elizabeth doesn't mean to be unkind to you--it's only her way of saying that you and Jim are troublesome at times. And I don't think she will call you or Jim 'incubuses,' any more after to-morrow. Now, let us have something to eat. See, it is nearly dark.”
They ate their supper to the murmur of the ever-sounding surf upon the beach, and then Gerrard spreading out his blankets under the shelter of a spreading wild honeysuckle, covered the child over with a sheet of waterproof cloth to keep off the dew.
“I must say my prayers, Uncle Tom.” “Yes, dear,” he said softly, “but you needn't get up. Can't you say them lying down?”
“Oh, no, Uncle Tom. That would be very wrong, and denotes laziness, Aunt Elizabeth says. Do you say _your_ prayers lying down?”
“Yes, chick,” was the prompt response, “generally when I'm lying down at night in the bush, looking up at the stars. And I daresay it does 'denote laziness,' as Aunt Elizabeth says. But at the same time I think it really doesn't matter to God whether one is lying down or sitting up, or on one's knees when we pray to Him.”
“Dead sure, little woman--as sure as ducks are ducks--especially when little girls are tired.”
She clasped her two little sunbrowned hands together and said the Lord's Prayer, and then paused.
“Yes, the extrack from the Catechism. Aunt Elizabeth composed some of it.”
“Oh! she composed some of it, did she? Yes, by all means say 'the extract.'”
The child closed her eyes again, and began very slowly:
“'Before I slumber, O Lord, I comment myself to Thy care and protection, however unworthy and thoughtless my conduct has been during the day now closed.'” (“That's Aunt Elizabeth,” muttered Gerrard under his breath.) “'I will try hard to hasten my rebellious spirit,--no not hasten, but chasten--I always say that wrong, Uncle Tom--to reverently submit myself to all my governors, teachers, spiritual pastors and masters: to regulate my conduc', and demean myself with all humility; to keep my hands from picking and stealing, to recollect that I may be called this night before, Thee to answer for my many sins and transgressions.' That's all Uncle Tom.”