“I believe it,” said the old man gently, “or naturally I would not teach it to this little girl. I have told her that God’s power is infinite, but that his purpose is not always easy for us to understand. I know, however, that such prayers as hers must do great good to her and to him she prays for. Don’t you?”
“No,” replied Lola coldly, “I do not.” She resented the look of cool inquiry in this man’s eye; he was a famous writer, they had told her, an authority on many subjects of which the very names were new to her. Well, he could not study her, or if he tried he would find that she was not the empty-headed creature his rather amused look seemed to say he thought her.
“I know nothing of the kind,” she went on calmly, “and I am surprised that a man like you can believe such worn-out old superstitions.”
“That need not surprise you, that we believe, this child and I,” he said gently. “Belief is so very easy to us. She is very young, and I am very old, and to such belief comes naturally. It is, I think, because the very young are fresh from God’s presence and because the very old are drawing nearer to it.”
He rose as he spoke and, taking the child’s hand, bowed to Lola kindly and went into the hotel, the little dog following them gravely.
“I’ve had enough of this,” declared Lola, rising angrily. “I’m bored to death! You people do as you please; I’m going to bed!”
CHAPTER XVI
A SERIOUS LETTER
“This is my idea of the work I’d like to do for my living,” said Mrs. Harlan with a yawn, as she tilted her sun-shade a little forward and settled herself deeper in the soft sand. “All I need now to be perfectly happy is to have one of you read to me until I fall asleep.”
“Lola looks as though she could sleep without that,” said Bob, glancing at her lazily. “You went to bed early enough last night; couldn’t you get any rest?”