"Promises?" said papa. "What are you talking of?"
"Papa, I am a servant of Christ," I said; I remember I was arranging the sticks of wood on the fire as I spoke, and it made pauses between my words; - "and He has promised to take care of His servants and to let no harm come to them, - no real harm; - how can I be afraid, papa? My Lord knows, - He knows all about it and all about me; I am safe; I have nothing to do to be afraid."
"Safe from what?"
"Not from trouble, papa; I do not mean that. He may see that it is best that trouble should come to me. But it will not come unless He sees that it is best; and I can trust Him."
"My dear child, is there not a little fanaticism there?"
"How, papa?"
"It seems to me to sound like it."
"It is nothing but believing God, papa."
"I wish I understood you," said papa, thoughtfully.
So I knelt down beside him and put my arms about him, and told him what I wanted him to understand; much more than I had ever been able to do before. The pain and sorrow of the past few weeks had set me free, and the rest of heart of the last few days too. I told papa all about it. I think, as Philip did to Queen Candace's servant, I "preached to him Jesus."