Now he was tucked in his little bed at home, with the wind sobbing
around the house, and the rain beating against the window. Then, he
saw soldiers marching, and horses galloping, such as he had seen in
pictures. Once he was sure that he was lying on the grass beneath the
shade of an old tree with the bees humming around him, and the
grasshoppers playing upon their funny musical saws. He felt angry
whenever the people made a noise, and drove the pictures away. He
didn't think of the singer now, of how she was dressed, or what she
looked like, and he didn't remember even one word she had uttered. He
hardly realised that he was in the big Opera House with the crowd of
people about him.
But there was one piece, and the last, which he did remember. It was
the way the woman sang it which had such an effect. He was sure that
there were tears in her eyes. His own were misty, anyway. She said
that she always closed with it, and it was called, "My Little Lad, God
Bless Him." That appealed to Rod. So this woman, then, had a little
boy, and he wanted to hear what she had to say about him. The very
first words arrested his attention.
"There's a little lad, God bless him!
And he's all the world to me;
Guide him, Lord, through life's long journey,
Guard him, keep him safe to Thee.
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