"And aint no other people Christians, but them as is like that?"
"You know what is written in the fourteenth chapter of John—'He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me.'"
"And aint there no other sort?" inquired Mrs. Purcell, still peering into
Rotha's eyes.
"Of Christians? Certainly not. Not of real Christians. How could there be?"
"Then I don't believe there aint none."
"O yes, there are! Many, many. True believers and servants of the Lord
Jesus."
"Then Prissy Purcell never see one of 'em," said the woman decidedly.
It shot through Rotha's mind, how careful she must be. This woman's whole faith in Christianity might depend on how she behaved herself. She stood soberly thinking, and then came back to the immediate matter in hand.
"I will pay you, Mrs. Purcell, for my cost and trouble, if ever I can," she said. "That is all I can say. I would go away, if I could. I do not want to be here."
"It's hard on you, that's a fact," said the woman. "Well, us won't make it no harder, Joe and me. We aint starvin'. Joe, he's money laid up; and us always has victuals to eat; victuals enough; and good, what they is, for Joe won't have nothin' else. I don' know if you can like 'em. But I can't go up all them stairs."