“What does God have to do with it? It was the people who were wicked to me. What if there be a God who loves me, and cares as little what people say about me, because he knows the truth, as I care about it because I know the truth!—But that is not what I wanted to say, which was this. If such lies were told, and believed, about an innocent girl trying to do her duty, why may not people have told lies about God, and people believed them? The same thing may hold with the book. Perhaps it does not speak such lies about God, but stupid or lying people have said that it speaks them, and other people have believed those, and said it again. I hope with all my heart that what you are saying is false when you say there is no God. But that is not nearly so bad as saying there is a God who is not good. I can’t think anybody would believe in a God like that, or that people would have been able to write a book about him that so many good people care to read.”

Richard was silent. Barbara’s sore experience echoed in his heart, and they had by now nearly arrived at the door of the cottage. He knocked, received no answer, opened the door, and they went in.

There was light enough from the remnant of fire to see, on a stool by its side, the woman of the house fast asleep, with her head against the wall. Her husband was snoring in bed. The children lay still on their mattress on the floor. Alice sat on the one chair, her head fallen back, and her face pale white. Beside the worn girl, Barbara looked like the incarnation of life and energy. Her cheeks were flushed from the rapid walk, and for a moment she stood radiant with the tender glow of pity as she looked down on the girl. Then with a sigh she put her arm under her head and lifted it gently. Alice’s eyes opened, but they did not seem to have much life in them.

“Quick,” said Barbara, “give me a little brandy in the cup.”

Richard did so and Barbara put the cup to Alice’s lips.

“Take a little brandy, dear—it will revive you,” she said.

All Alice could see was the face of an angel bending over her. She obeyed the heavenly vision and drank what it offered. It made her cough, and their sleeping hostess jumped to her feet, but a smile and greeting from Barbara reassured her. She thanked her for her hospitality as if Alice had been her own sister, and slipping money into the woman’s hand, coaxed her to make up the fire a little that she might warm some soup she had brought.