"Nope, I can't. I don't know how God looks. I can't understand how Jesus ruz after he'd been dead three days."
"He did that 'cause He were one-half God," explained Flukey, and then, brightening, added, "Sister Ann telled me that if He hadn't been a sufferin' and a sufferin', and hadn't loved everybody well enough, God wouldn't have let Him ruz. 'Twa'n't by anything He did after He were dead that brought Him standin' up again."
"Then who did it?" queried Flea.
"God did—jest as how He said 'way back there when there wasn't any world, 'World, come out!' and the world came. He said, 'Jesus, stand up!' and Jesus stood up. That's as easy as rollin' off a log, Flea."
She had heard Ann explain it, too; but it seemed easier when Flukey interpreted it.
"If I could see and speak to Him once," she mourned, "I could make Sister Ann glad by tellin' her that I knowed He'd answer me."
"Ask Him to let ye see Himself," advised Flukey, "He'll do it, I bet! Will ye, Flea?"
"Nope! I'd be 'fraid if He came and stood near me. I'm 'fraid even now when I think of Him; but 'cause I can't believe 'tain't no reason why you can't, Fluke."
She turned her head toward the door and listened.
"Brother Horace ain't like Sister Ann," she whispered.