"But I was going to tell you what happened to one of the little lambs in
spite of the Shepherd's watchful care," Grace continued, feeling
inspirited by the growing interest of her audience.

"Eh, but I hope none o' the wild beasts ye spoke o' got hold of it,"
said Geordie, drawing a long breath.

"Well, there's no saying what might have happened, but for the Good
Shepherd. For the little lamb got lost--lost among bleak, sandy hills,
where it could find no green blade to eat, and got very hungry and
footsore. It could hear no kind shepherd's voice that it used to love to
listen to in happier days, but only terrible sounds like the bark of
wolves, coming nearer, and lions prowling about when it began to get
dark."

"Puir lambie!" murmured Jean, whose face now rested on her little fat
hands, while, leaning on the table, she looked up in Grace's face; "it
must surely ha'e been very frightened," she added, in a compassionate
tone; for she knew that she did not like to cross the turf in front of
the cottage, after dark, without Geordie's protecting hand.

"Yes, it surely must have been frightened enough, for it was certainly
in great danger, and the Shepherd knew what a terrible plight it must be
in, wandering about tired and hungry, far away from the fold. For what
do you think he did?" Grace continued, looking at Geordie; "he actually
left all the other sheep--the ninety-nine, you know--in the wilderness,
and went away to seek for this poor little silly lost lamb."

"Did he though! He must have been a real fine man," responded Geordie,