Cornelia smiled, and squeezed the little hand nestling in hers.
“I guess that’s what we’re expected to do,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yes, and I think God’ll show you what to do about that—that—chicken girl, too, don’t you, if you ask Him?”
“I guess He will.”
The whole family, of course excepting Carey, who telephoned that he wouldn’t be home till late, went to church that night, and lingered to be introduced to some of the church people by the cordial minister who had come down to the door to detain them. They finally went home cheered in heart both by the earnest spiritual service and by the warm Christian fellowship that had been offered them.
That night as Louise nestled into her pillow, she whispered:
“Nellie, have you been shown yet? I mean anything about Carey and that girl.”
Cornelia drew the little girl into her arms, and laid her lips against the warm, soft cheek.
“I’m not quite sure, dear,” she answered. “I’ve been thinking. Perhaps it will seem queer to you, but I’ve almost come to think perhaps we ought to get to know her.”
“Oh-h-h!” doubtfully. “Do you really think so? But she’s—why, she’s just awful, sister!”