“And what would you classify as sin?”
“You sure are not going to commit yourself,” the boy chuckled. “Well, I don’t believe God punishes people for their ignorance, but if he does, there’s an army—an everlasting big one—of people who have been powerful enough. I mean held high positions, inflicted torture and suffering on their fellow men, who tried to show the world how everybody could know more—like Galileo, and a lot of fellows. I’d call destroying men like that a sin.”
“You would turn a great many—say standard saints, into sinners.”
“Sure, why not? If they were incapable of rightly classifying their fellows, they just naturally over-estimated their own importance.”
“I should say you have given the matter a good deal of thought.”
“Well, I have some,” the boy flushed. “You know, when you are flying, way up in the sky—through the heavens, no matter what they were doing, it does set a chap’s thinking machine to working. Gosh, I’ll be glad when we get our new plane fixed. When they fetch it home, Bob and I are going to take it to bed with us so nothing can happen to it—wow, here we are.”
The car went purring along the drive under the snow laden willows whose long branches rustled and murmured as the breeze stirred them. It stopped before the door, which was promptly opened by the man servant, and a minute later, Don Haurea was welcoming his pupil, who lost no time in divesting himself of outer garments.
“Your step-brother, I take it, is engaged in entertaining Mr. Kramer.”
“Yes, sir. He’s still got some things he wants to read, and I guess he thought if he stayed at home, it would be a little easier on Mom, and Bob sort of likes to take care of sick things. It tickles him pink if he can doctor a chicken, especially if it gets well,” Jim laughed, then added earnestly, “Bob’s a great buddie.”
“He certainly is,” the man agreed promptly.