"Well, because I like it, for one thing," said he, "and because it's the
only book I've got here, for another."

"My, I think it's awful slow!" said she.

"Do you?" he inquired, as if interested in her likes and dislikes at
last.

"I'd think you'd like other books better--detective stories and that
kind," she ventured. "Didn't you ever read any other book?"

"Some few," he replied, a reflection as of amusement in his eyes, which
she thought made them look old and understanding and wise. "But I've
always read the Bible. It's one of the books that never seems to get old
to you."

"Did you ever read _True as Steel_?"

"No, I never did."

"Or _Tempest and Sunshine_?"

He shook his head.

"Oh-h," said she, fairly lifting herself by the long breath which she
drew, like the inhalation of a pleasant recollection, "you don't know
what you've missed! They are lovely!"

"Well, maybe I'd like them, too."

He stooped again, and this time came up with his pails.

"I'm glad you're not religious, anyhow," she sighed, as if heaving a
trouble off her heart.

"Are you?" he asked, turning to her wonderingly.

"Yes; religious people are so glum," she explained. "I never saw one of
them laugh."

"There are some that way," said Joe. "They seem to be afraid they'll go
to hell if they let the Almighty hear them laugh. Mother used to be that
way when she first got _her_ religion, but she's outgrowing it now."

"The preachers used to scare me to death," she declared. "If I could
hear some comfortable religion I might take up with it, but it seems to
me that everybody's so sad after they get it. I don't know why."

Joe put down the pails again. Early as the day was, it was hot, and he
was sweating. He pushed his hat back from his forehead. It was like
lifting a shadow from his serious young face. She smiled.

"A person generally gets the kind of religion that he hears preached,"
said he, "and most of it you hear is kind of heavy, like bread without
rising. I've never seen a laughing preacher yet."

"There must be some, though," she reflected.

"I hope so," said Joe.

"I'm _glad_ you're not full of that kind of religion," said she. "For a
long time I thought you were."

"You did? Why?"

"Oh, because--" said she.

Her cheek was toward him; he saw that it was red, like the first tint of
a cherry. She snatched up her bucket then and sped along the path.

Joe walked on a little way, stopped, turned, and looked after he