bout that!"

"Oh, God didn't have to have a father," Nellie answered easily.
"Everything is free in Heaven; so He didn't have to have a father to
work for Him when He was little."

"Then why did He have to have a mama?"

"To tell Him what to do, 'course. You know how 'tis. If you ask your
papa anything, don't he always say, 'Go ask your mama'?"

Hannah had noticed this shifting of masculine responsibility more than
once. "That's so," she acquiesced. Then a terrible thought struck her.
"I don't want to go to Heaven! I don't want to go anywhere unless my
papa can go too."

Nellie's nimble Irish wits were ready. "I just said _God_ didn't need
any papa. 'Course _our_ papas will go to Heaven, 'cause that's the only
place they can quit working. Didn't I hear my papa say one time he hoped
he'd get a little rest in Heaven, 'cause he never got any on this
earth?"

"But, you have to die before you can get to Heaven," sighed Hannah.

Virginia, who had been maintaining a most dignified silence, looked as
if she must speak or explode. "No you don't. Heaven begins here and
now," she recited. "If you are good, you are well and happy, and that's
Heaven."

"'Tisn't," scoffed Nellie. "Do you see any angels flying 'round in this
here yard? I don't."

Hannah rather took to Virginia's argument, and resolved to have
conversation with her some time, undampened by Nellie's skepticism. If
there could be feasting on the joys of Heaven here and now, Hannah had
every intention of being at the banquet table. At the present moment,
however, the rosary beads were of fascinating interest; she must hold
them in her own hands, and watch the play of purple lights upon the snow
as she flashed them in the sun. Questions about the crucifix, she found,
brought on an embarrassing silence. Nellie looked at Virginia. Virginia
looked at Nellie. Then the two excused themselves for a whispered
colloquy at the other end of the yard. When they returned, Virginia
acted as spokesman, fixing Nellie with an unrelenting eye.

"That is Jesus nailed to the cross, Hannah. Some very wicked people did
it."

There was nothing exciting in this to Hannah; wicked people were doing
wicked things the world over, all the time. The statement fell flat, and
Nellie, disappointed at the lack of dramatic effect, broke treaty. "I
'spect the Jews did it," she said.

"They did not!" Hannah's voice trembled. "The Jews are nice people; they
wouldn't do a wicked thing like that