"Why, nothing, I suppose."
"Then it seems to me He is the One to be friends with." And Cyrus leaned back on the pillow, and turned his face toward the light. Joanna stroked his head.
"But don't you worry, little boy. You are not goin' to die just because you are sick."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am sure, so is your father sure. To-morrow you will be all well again."
"Yes, but I shall die some day and I might as well be ready. You think the Congregashalists have the best chance of getting to heaven."
"Yes."
"Then I'll be one. What do I have to do?"
"Nothing, but just go to church."
"Is God a Congregashalist?"