As she asked the question, her eyes searched eagerly those of her aunt.
"That we don't know, dearie. Maybe. Some churches teach that our departed loved ones are in Paradise. Others say they sleep in their graves until the great resurrection day."
Venna gave a slight shiver. "I couldn't believe that. It sounds so awful to me."
"Why awful?" asked her aunt mildly. "If God has made it so, it must be all right."
"But, auntie, God loves us, and wouldn't let us stay in a cold, worm-eaten grave!" Again she shivered.
"If you didn't know it, what matter?" returned her aunt with a satisfied vagueness. "I wish you wouldn't take all those mysteries so to heart. Venna. It doesn't matter really, dear; you can believe the other way, if you wish."
"Can believe? How can I when no one tells me surely. Yes, I think I can," she added musingly. "It's like when I play my violin. There's some power I don't see brings music right into my soul. I feel it, but I can't explain. That same power makes me feel mother isn't in the grave. No, I'm sure she is often with us and knows how happy we are," she ended with confidence.
"Well, dearie, it's a good, happy thought and so keep it. You think so much about religion, Venna; don't you think you are old enough to join the Church?"
"Mercy, No!" was the laughing answer. "I wouldn't really know what to join. All my beloved aunties belong to different churches, and while I love you best, dear, how could I decide which was right. Besides, if I can be as good as Daddy, I'll be satisfied. He wouldn't join any one of them, and who can surpass him?"
"Your father is a great exception. However, he is a good Christian man, Venna; that is the secret of his life."