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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 a moment at the half-open door.
She saw that the little thing had pulled a chair in front of the telephone, and stood upon it, with the phone against the side of her head. The earnestness of the child showed that she was not in a playful mood, and this was the conversation the mother heard, while the tears flowed from her eyes; the little one carrying on both sides, as if she were repeating the answers
"Hello."
"Well, who's there?"
"Is God there?
"Is Jesus there?"
"Yes."
"Tell Jesus I want to speak to him."
"Well?"
"Is that you, Jesus?"
"Yes. What is it?
"Our baby is sick, and I want you to help it get well."
"Won't you now?"
No answer, and statement and question again repeated, 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 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.