“My dear—I?”
“He's lonely, you know, and people aren't nice to him. Isn't it hateful that people should hurt others, because they're foreign or different?”
She saw his eyes open with mild surprise, and went on: “I know you think people are charitable, Daddy, but they aren't, of course.”
“That's not exactly charitable, Nollie.”
“You know they're not. I think sin often just means doing things differently. It's not real sin when it only hurts yourself; but that doesn't prevent people condemning you, does it?”
“I don't know what you mean, Nollie.”
Noel bit her lips, and murmured: “Are you sure we're really Christians, Daddy?”
The question was so startling, from his own daughter, that Pierson took refuge in an attempt at wit. “I should like notice of that question, Nollie, as they say in Parliament.”
“That means you don't.”
Pierson flushed. “We're fallible enough; but, don't get such ideas into your head, my child. There's a lot of rebellious talk and writing in these days....”