"It's most irreverent not to kneel; you kneel to God in church."
"So I do!" said Harebell, a light springing in upon her. "So I do. I never thought of that."
She went down on her knees at once, closed her eyes, and began to whisper. Goody folded up her clothes, but she was rather scandalized at scraps she heard the little girl say.
"I expect you laughed when you made him, God, but I'm so glad he has such a funny face—and if I could find a spell to melt her—would you advise me not to think about it? I should like it soon, please—I must have something to cuddle!"
As the whisper went on, Goody cleared her throat, then coughed. Harebell looked up.
"Do you want to speak to me? It doesn't matter interrupting; God is dreadfully accustomed to interrupting. You see, such millions of people are talking to Him all day long!"
"I think you had better get into bed," said Goody severely.
Harebell meekly obeyed her, but the whispering went on even after she had left the room.
"Never in my life have I seen such a child," was Goody's verdict downstairs. "I would say one minute she was fifty years old, and the next as ignorant as a savage! Uncanny, I call her! And yet I feel my heart warm towards her!"
Later that evening Mrs. Keith visited her small niece, candle in hand. She looked down upon the sleeping child with cold bitterness.