"What is blasphemous?"
"Why—why—anything that isn't respectful to God is blasphemous."
"Oh!" returned Hazel. Then she added softly, "I should think you were that, now."
"What!" and Miss Fletcher seemed to tower above her visitor in her amazement.
"Oh—please excuse me. I didn't mean to be impolite; but if you'll just try, you'll find out what a mistake you and Flossie have been making, and that God wants to heal her."
The two looked at one another for a silent half-minute, the little girl's heart beating faster under the grim gaze.
"You might come and see her some day," suggested Miss Fletcher, at last. "She has a dull time of it, poor child. I've asked the children to come in, and they've all been very kind, but it's vacation, and a good many that I know have gone away."
"I will," replied Hazel. "Doesn't she like to come out here where the flowers are?"
"Yes; it's been a little too cloudy and threatening to-day, but if it's clear to-morrow I'll wheel her out under the elm-tree, and she'd like a visit from you. Are you staying far from here?"
"No, uncle Dick's is right on this street."