"Well, why didn't he prevent it, mother?"
"Hear me through, my child. If he allowed you to be sick, when he could have kept you well, then it is certain that, on the whole, he would rather you would be sick. You see this, don't you, Julian?" "Yes, ma'am. God made me sick, didn't he?"
"There's no doubt that all diseases are under his control."
"Then, mama, I am sure that God—"
"Not quite so fast. I want you to see what you was doing, when you was so peevish a little while ago. You was very much out of humor. Indeed, I think you showed some anger."
"Oh, no, mother, I was not angry."
"Perhaps not, my child; but what would you call that spirit, if it was not anger?"
"I was—I was—provoked—I mean vexed, mama."
"Well, who vexed you?"
"Nobody; it was the whooping-cough."