"Were you a truly little girl?" in surprise.
"Why, child, don't you know anything?" Then Miss Eunice laughed softly and patted the small shoulder, looking kindly into the wondering eyes. There was no hurt in her tone and the words rather amused.
"I know a great many things. I can read some Latin, and I know about Greece and its splendid heroes who conquered a good deal of the world. There was Alexander the Great and Philip of Macedon. And Tamerlane, who conquered nearly all Asia. And—and Confucius, the great man of China, who was a wise philosopher, and wrote a bible——"
"Oh, no; not a bible!" interrupted Miss Eunice, horrified. "There is only one Bible, my dear, and that is the Word of God."
"But the other is the bible of the Chinese, and some of them believe Confucius was a god."
"That is quite impossible, my dear;" in a rather decisive, but still gentle tone.
"And there is Brahma, and Vishnu, and there are ever so many gods in India. The people pray to them. And temples. When they want anything very much, they go and pray for it. There was a woman whose little son was very ill, and if he lived he was going to be a great prince, or something, and she gathered up her precious stones and her necklace and took them to the temple for the god. Father sent an English doctor, but they wouldn't let him see the little boy. He was so pretty, too. I used to see him in the court."
"And did he live?" Miss Eunice asked, much interested.
"No; he didn't. And the father beat her for losing the jewels."
"You see, those gods have no power."