"There are no ladies, but all are women in the sight of God. And as for such foolish, sinful lives as the townfolk lead, playing cards and dancing, and all manner of frivolous conversation, it were a mercy to snatch one from the burning. She was a nice little child last year. I must reduce her to obedience again, and some sense of a useful, godly life."
"To have thy training upset by the next hand! It is neither wise nor wholesome for the child, and she will come to have ill will towards us. I can remember how bright and cheerful and easily pleased her mother was——"
"She was never grounded in the faith. She had a worldly and carnal love for Philemon Henry, and it was but lip service. If he had lived——" Lois Henry had interrupted with an energetic protest in her voice, but now she leaned her head on the door post and looked as if she might collapse utterly.
"Mother, thou art too ill to be sitting up. Let me help thee to bed, and then I must go look for the child."
He lifted her in his strong young arms and, carrying her through, laid her on the bed beside her husband.
"I am very ill," she moaned, and indeed she looked so. All her strength seemed to have gone out of her.
"I heard high words about the child. Hath she proved refractory? Madam Wetherill and the houseful of servants have no doubt spoiled her. It is God's mercy that there may be seasons of bringing her back to reasonable life."
"Do not trouble about the little girl. To-day I think the doctor will be here to examine thy leg, and I am sure my mother needs him. I am afraid it is a grave matter."
"My poor wife! And I am a helpless burden on thee! I am afraid I have demanded too much."
"The Lord will care for us," she made answer brokenly.