"And where's the difference?" asked Mr. Fuller, quietly.
"Oh! you know quite well. Doing wrong, you know—why, we all do wrong sometimes. But to commit a sin, you know—I suppose that's something serious. That comes in the way of the Ten Commandments."
"I don't think your little girl would know the difference."
"But what's the use of referring to her always?"
"Just because I think she's very likely to know best. Children are wise in the affairs of their own kingdom."
"Well, I believe you're right; for she is the strangest child I ever saw. She knows more than any one would think for. Walk this way, sir. You'll find her in the back room."
"Won't you come, too, and see that I don't put any nonsense into her head?"
"I must mind the shop, sir," objected Kitely, seeming a little ashamed of what he had said.
Mr. Fuller nodded content, and was passing on, when he bethought himself, and stopped.
"Oh, Mr. Kitely," he said, "there was just one thing I was going to say, but omitted. It was only this: that suppose you were right about your little girl, or suppose even that she had never done anything wrong at all, she would want God all the same. And we must help each other to find Him."