He laid his head on the arm of the bench and sobbed as if his heart would break.

The people passed by him, and here and there one woman said to another: "The poor little fellow, he has no one on this earth," and then they went out.
The pastor in the pulpit had seen Erick rush into church.

He now looked again in that direction, and noticed the little chap, how he sat there on the empty bench, so forsaken, his head resting on his arm.

The pastor now walked behind the last of the congregation toward the bench.

He stepped into the pew and put his hand on Erick's shoulder and asked kindly: "Why are you weeping so hard, my boy ?" "Because--because--because they sang Mother's song," sobbed Erick.
"What is your name ?" the pastor asked again.
"Erick Dorn," was the answer.
Now the pastor knew what to do.