A mother living not very far from the post-office in this city, tired with watching over a sick baby, came down stairs for a moment the other day for a few second's rest. She heard the voice of her little, four-year-old girl in the hall by herself, and, curious to know to whom she was talking, stopped for a moment at the half-opened door. She saw that the little thing had pulled a chair in front of the telephone, and stood upon it, with the piece against the side of her head. The earnestness of the child showed that she was in no playing mood, and this was the conversation the mother heard, while the tears stood thick in her eyes; the little one carrying on both sides, as if she were repeating the answers:
"Well, who's there?"
"Is God there?"
"Is Jesus there?"
"Tell Jesus I want to speak to him."
"Is that you, Jesus?"
"Yes. What is it?"
"Our baby is sick, and we want you to let it get well. Won't you, now?"
No answer, and statement and question again repeated, and finally answered by a "Yes."
The little one put the ear-piece back on its hook, clambered down from the chair, and with a radiant face, went for her mother, who caught her in her arms.
The baby whose life had been despaired of, began to mend that day and got well.
--Elmira Free Press