A FIE-SHA-DIE

“Time to say your prayers,” said Mother. Jenny and Margaret knelt down by the bedside. They put the palms of their hands together and bowed their heads. With Margaret a little in the lead, they sweetly chanted:

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray Thee Lord, my “sole”  to keep, 
If I should die before I wake, 
I  pray Thee Lord my “sole”  to take.
A-Men.

Mother tucked her two cherubs into bed and promised to leave the lamp lit until they got to sleep. Margaret was soon breathing deeply and lost in slumber, but Jenny was wakeful. The shadow of the lamp chimney made a round ring on the ceiling, and encircling it were dark, ray-like streaks. In small twin oval frames on the wall, were old pictures of two little angels. Their hands were folded in prayer. It seemed to Jenny that the round faced one was herself and the one with the thinner face was Margaret. They must be saying, “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep,” too.

Jenny thought about the prayer. She thought about the sole of her cracked patent leather shoe and wondered why the Lord would want to keep or take it. She pondered on the fie-sha-die. Just what was a fie-sha-die? A fie-sha-die before I wake. Did the round faced angel in the oval frame wonder about these things too? Or had she always known the answers?