"What is your idea of goodness?"
Jean looked at her companion with wistful eyes. "I don't know," she said. "I am not religious, but I believe we ought to carry out the teaching of Christ in the Bible, ought we not? I wish I felt as sure of heaven as Sunnie does."
A rather bitter look swept over Mrs. Gordon's face. "Who is sure except children?" she said. "That makes their happiness: their sublime trust in every one—and in God."
"Miss Lorraine is sure," said Jean musingly, "and I think Colonel Douglas."
"And my Cousin Leslie," said Mrs. Gordon. "Yes, and they are happy in their faith, but it has not been tried."
"Do you think it would fail them?"
Mrs. Gordon did not answer. When next she spoke, it was to draw Jean's attention to some local landmark.
Jean wondered when she got home, how she could have touched upon some of the deep things in life with a comparative stranger, especially with such a reserved one as Mrs. Gordon. But she liked her the better for their talk, and she hoped the liking was mutual.
The next day was Sunday, and it was a very strange one to Jean. She went to the little Scotch church with Mrs. Gordon and Meta, and found the service long and dreary. The novelty of her surroundings could not compensate for the length of time she was listening to the old Scotch minister.
Dr. Fergusson came to lunch, and Jean began to brighten up. He always seemed to bring a fresh and breezy atmosphere into the house with him. When lunch was over, Jean went up to her bedroom and wrote to Miss Lorraine.