vil. Nor could she think that secularism would reach
these. To understand secularism you meed a fair share of intellect what
intellect would these poor creatures have? Why, you might talk forever
of the "good of humanity," and "the duty of promoting the general good,"
and they would not so much as grasp the idea of what "good" was they
would sink back to their animal-like state. Instinctively her thoughts
turned to the Radical Reformer who, eighteen hundred years ago, had
lived among people just as wicked, just as wretched. How had He worked?
What had He done? All through His words and actions had sounded the one
key-note, "Your Father." Always He had led them to look up to a perfect
Being who loved them, who was present with them.

Was it possible that if Christians had indeed followed their Leader and
not obscured His teaching with hideous secretions of doctrine which He
had assuredly never taught was it possible that the Christ-gospel in its
original simplicity would indeed be the remedy for all evil?

They were coming into broader thoroughfares now. A wailing child's voice
fell on her ear. A small crowd of disreputable idlers was hanging round
the closed doors of a public-house, waiting eagerly for the opening
which would take place at the close of service-time. The wailing child's
voice grew more and more piteous. Erica saw that it came from a poor
little half-clad creature of three years old who was clinging to the
skirts of a miserable-looking woman with a shawl thrown over her head.
Just as she drew near, the woman, with a fearful oath, tried to shake
herself free of the child; then, with uplifted arms, was about to deal
it a heavy blow when Erica caught her hand as it descended, and held it
fast in both her hands.

"Don't hurt him," she said, "please don't hurt him."

She looked into the prematurely wrinkled face, into the half-dim eyes,
she held the hand fast with a pressure not of force but of entreaty.
Then they passed on, the by-standers shouting out the derisive chorus
of "Come to Jesus!" with which London roughs delight in mocking any
passenger whom they suspect of religious tendencies. In all her sadness,
Erica could not help smiling to herself. That she, an atheist, Luke
Raeburn's daughter, should be hooted at as a follower of Jesus!

In the meantime the woman she had spoken to stood still staring after
her. If an angel had suddenly appeared to her, she could not have been
more startled. A human han