"Why no, I don't think that, — of course I have," Elizabeth answered gravely, and not without a shade of displeasure at the question.
"Do you know that for every one of those wrong doings your life is forfeit?"
"Why no!"
"And that you are living and sitting there, only because Jesus Christ paid his blood for your life? — Your time is bought time; — and he has written the Bible to tell you what to do with it."
"Am I not to do what I like with my own time?" thought Elizabeth. The thought was exceeding disagreeable; but before she or anybody had spoken again, the door of the big bed-room opened gently, and Miss Cadwallader's pretty face peeped out.
"Are they all gone to bed? — are they all gone to bed?" she said; — "may I come, Mrs Landholm?"
She was in her dressing-gown, and tripping across the floor with the prettiest little bare feet in the world, she took a chair in the corner of the fireplace.
"They got so cold," she said, — "I thought I would come out and warm them. How cosy and delightful you do look here. Dear Mrs. Landholm, do stop working. What are you talking about?"
There was a minute's hesitation, and then Elizabeth said,
"Of reading the Bible."