e Catechism week after week. I was _so_
sorry he repeated them, for they seemed to give a change to all my
thought. I am _sure_ I was trustful before, when he talked to me so
earnestly; but when he repeated only what I had learned over and over,
every Saturday night, then I am afraid my faith drooped.

_"'Don't_ tell me that, New Papa,' said I, 'it is so old; talk to me as
you _were_ talking.'

"And then the Doctor looked at me with the keenest eyes I ever saw, and
said,--

"'My child, are you right, and are the Doctors wrong?'

"'Is it the Catechism that you call the Doctors?' said I.

"'Yes,' said he.

"'But were they better men than you, New Papa?'

"'All men alike, Adaly, all struggling toward the truth,--all wearying
themselves to interpret it in such way that the world may accept it, and
praise God who has given us His Son a sacrifice, by whom, and whom only,
we may be saved.' And at this he took my hand and said, 'Adaly, trust
Him!'

"By this time" (for Adele's letter is a true transcript of a day) "we
have reached the door of some one of his people to whom he is to pay a
visit. The blinds are all closed, and nothing seems to be stirring but a
gray cat that is prowling about under the lilac bushes. Dobbins is
hitched to the post, and the Doctor pounds away at the big knocker.
Presently two or three white-headed children come peeping around the
bushes, and rush away to tell who has come. After a little the stout
mistress opens the door, and wipes her fingers on her apron, and shakes
hands, and bounces into the keeping-room to throw up the window and open
the blinds, and dusts off the great rocking-chair for the Doctor, and
keeps saying all the while that they are 'very back'ard with the spring
work, and she really had no time to slick up,' and asks after Miss Eliza
and Reuben, and the Tourtelots, and all the people on the street, so
fast that I wonder she can keep her breath; and the Doctor looks so
calm, and has no time to say anything yet. Then she looks at me, 'Sissy
is looking well,' says she, and dashes out to bring in a great plate of
gingerbread, which I never like at all, and say, 'No.' But she says, 'It
won't hurt ye; it a'n't p'ison, child.' So I find I must eat a little;
and while I sit mumbling it, the Doctor and she talk on about a great
deal I don't understand, and I am glad when she bounces up again, and
says, 'Sis would like to get some posies, p'raps,' and leads me out of
doors. 'There's