There is a little nestling among the bed-clothes, and then a ringing voice says: "Well, mamma, here I am; good-morning. Shall I tell you a nice pretty story this morning, while you comb your hair?"

"Oh, yes, indeed."

"Well, once there was a man named Peter, and a naughty king named Herod put him in prison. Prisons are great big stone houses with iron windows, where they put naughty men. Peter wasn't naughty, but King Herod was; and he fastened him to two soldiers; he put chains around his wrists, you know, and then around each soldier's wrist. Then they locked the doors and locked and bolted the great big gate, and went away. Peter went to sleep; and in the night he heard some one say to him, 'Get up, Peter, quick; and put on your cloak and come with me.' Then Peter opened his eyes, and there stood an angel; then he hurried and put on his cloak and his belt, and they went out, he and Jesus—the angel was Jesus hisself, you know—and they went by the soldier, and the soldier didn't say a word; and Peter wondered and wondered how they would get through that big gate that was locked up so tight; but when they came to it, open it swung—there didn't anybody touch it at all—then they went through and went down the street, and pretty soon Peter turned around to say something to Jesus, and he was gone! He had gone back to heaven, I suppose.

"Down street a little ways there was a woman lived, and her name was Mary, and she had a prayer-meeting at her house; ever so many people came to prayer-meeting, and they prayed to Jesus to take care of Peter and let him get out of prison. Peter knew there was a prayer-meeting, so he thought he would go to it; and he knocked at the gate (they had to knock at the gate when they went to see Mary), and a girl named Rhoda went to see who was there; and instead of letting him in, she ran back and said: 'Oh, don't you think, Peter is at the gate.' Then the folks said: 'Why, no, he isn't; Peter is in prison, and the door is locked, and the soldiers have the keys. You are mistaken.' But she said: 'No, I ain't mistaken; I know it is Peter.' So they 'sputes about it and Peter kept knocking, knocking, and pretty soon some of them said: 'Come, let's go see who is knocking, that Rhoda thinks is Peter;' so they went to the gate and there they saw him, and they knew him and they were so glad to see him; they opened the gate and let him in, and they all wanted to talk to him at once, but he beckoned to them to keep still, and then he told them how Jesus came down out of heaven and woke him up, and got him out of prison. Isn't that a nice story, mamma?"

"A splendid story, darling; and every word of it is true. That was your own Jesus that you pray to, who took care of Peter and helped him out of prison."

"I know it am, mamma; I know all about him. Now, shall I tell you another story?"

"Oh, yes; I like your stories when they are as nice as this one."

"Well, now listen; this is my other story and it is all true:

"There, isn't that a nice story, mamma?"

Mamma, feeling a tremendous distance between that story and the last one, concludes that it is time to give the boy his morning bath, and kiss his little tongue into quiet for a few minutes.