“Yet you think that we are wrong, and that Christianity is right?”
“Yes, but to my mind perfect justice is part of Christianity.”
“Oh,” said Erica, in a tone which meant unutterable things.
“You think that Christians do not show perfect justice to you?” said Charles Osmond, reading her thoughts.
“I can't say I think they do,” she replied. Then, suddenly firing up at the recollection of her afternoon's experiences, she said: “They are not just to us, though they preach justice; they are not loving, though they talk about love. If they want us to think their religion true, I wonder they don't practice it a little more and preach it less. What is the use of talking of 'brotherly kindness and charity,' when they hardly treat us like human beings, when they make up wicked lies about us, and will hardly let us sit in the same room with them!”
“Come, now, we really are sitting in the same room,” said Charles Osmond, smiling.
“Oh, dear, what am I to do!” exclaimed Erica. “I can't remember that you are one of them! You are so very unlike most.”
“I think,” said Charles Osmond, “you have come across some very bad specimens.”
Erica, in her heart, considered her visitor as the exception which proved the rule; but not wishing to be caught tripping again, she resolved to say no more upon the subject.
“Let us talk of something else,” she said.