e stitches."

"And then----"

"Why"--Eunice wondered herself. There were chests of them piled away in
the garret--Chilian's mother's, and those they had made to fill in the
moments when housework was finished. She had a quiet sense of humor, and
she smiled. What were they laying up these treasures for? Neither of
them would be married, most of their relatives were well provided for.

"Well, some one may like to have them;" after a pause. "You must learn
to sew."

"Patchwork?"

It was absurd to pile up any more.

"You see," said the child, "no one needed them over there;" inclining
her head to the East. "You have a little bed and a pallet, and it is
warm, so you do not need quilts. And the poor people and the servants
have a mat they spread down anywhere and a blanket, but you see, they
sleep with their clothes on."

Eunice looked rather horrified.

"But they change them! They would--why, there would be soil and vermin."

"They go to the river and bathe and wash them out. They sling them on
the stones in a queer way. But some of them are very dirty and ragged.
They are not like the English and us, and don't wear many clothes.
Sometimes they are wrapped up in a white sheet."

"It is a very queer country. They are not civilized, or Christianized. I
don't know what will become of them in the end."

"It's their country and no one knows how old it is. China is the oldest
country in the world."

"But, my dear, there was the garden of Eden when God first created the
world. Nothing could be older than that, you know. Two thousand years to
the flood, and two thousand years to the coming of Christ, and some
people think the world will end in another two thousand years."

"I don't see any sense in burning it up, when there are so many lovely
things in it;" and Cynthia's eyes took on a deep, inquiring expression.
"That was what the chaplain used to say. Father thought it would go on
and on, getting wiser and greater, and the people learning to be better
and making wonderful things."

"My dear, what the Bible says _must_ be true. And it will be burned up.
You have a Bible?"

"The chaplain gave me a pretty prayer-book. It is upstairs."

"We do not believe in prayer-books, dear." The tone was soft, yet
decided. "We came over here, at least our forefathers did, that we might
worship God according to the dictates of our conscience. We tried to
leave the prayer-books and the bishops behind, but we couldn't quite.
You