"May I teach you to read?" asked Genevieve, looking into Hepsa's eyes entreatingly. The child turned away her head as she answered,
"I haven't any time. I have to stay at home."
"But," pursued Genevieve, "I'll come down to your house, and bring some books, and help
you tend the baby. O! don't you love the baby?"
"No! he is too cross," was the crusty reply.
"But, he is a baby; he don't know any better."
"That don't make any difference."
"Yes it does, too; your big brother knew better than to kill your pretty pussy, and that is why it was so naughty in him to do it." This was a new kind of argument for Hepsa; but she thought over it a moment, and then told her little teacher she thought she might be right. "I almost wish you would come to teach me to read. I don't know but I might like it; and then it would be rather good to see you. Now, are you sure there is such a person as God?" said Hepsa, glancing at Genevieve from the corners of her eyes.
"Of course I am, Hepsa; who do you think made the sky and the ground, the trees and grass?"
"I don't know," replied Hepsa.