the temple. Then I sought to make the story more real to them by dwelling a
little on the growing fears of his parents as they went from group to group
of their friends, tracing back the road towards Jerusalem and asking every
fresh company they knew if they had seen their boy, till at length they
were in great trouble when they could not find him even in Jerusalem. Then
came the delight of his mother when she did find him at last, and his
answer to what she said. Now, while I thus lingered over the simple story,
my children had put many questions to me about Jesus being a boy, and not
seeming to know things which, if he was God, he must have known, they
thought. To some of these I had just to reply that I did not understand
myself, and therefore could not teach them; to others, that I could explain
them, but that they were not yet, some of them, old enough to receive and
understand my explanation; while others I did my best to answer as simply
as I could. But at this point we arrived at a question put by Wynnie, to
answer which aright I considered of the greatest importance. Wynnie said:

"That is just one of the things about Jesus that have always troubled me,
papa."

"What is, my dear?" I said; for although I thought I knew well enough what
she meant, I wished her to set it forth in her own words, both for her own
sake, and the sake of the others, who would probably understand the
difficulty much better if she presented it herself.

"I mean that he spoke to his mother--"

"Why don't you say _mamma_, Wynnie?" said Charlie. "She was his own mamma,
wasn't she, papa?"

"Yes, my dear; but don't you know that the shoemaker's children down in the