"Poor father, so tired."
"He's not poor father, he's not father at all; he's a murderer, and it is very wicked of you to call him father," said the boy.
"Father," muttered the girl rebelliously.
"You know the sixth commandment says `Thou shalt do no murder,' and he has done murder; so he'll go to hell. And you'll go to hell too if you call him father. It's all in the Bible."
The boy ended vaguely, but the little girl was quite overcome by the thought of her badness.
"Oh, I am wicked!" she cried. "And I do so want to go to heaven."
She had a stout and materialistic belief in it as a place of sheeted angels and harps, where it was easy to be good.
"You must do as I tell you, then," he said. "Because I know. I've learnt all about it at school."
"And you never told me," said she reproachfully.
"Ah, there's lots of things I know," he replied, nodding his head.