es. And as for
Adoniram, her lank black cat, the child's restless creative fancy was
ever transforming him from goblin into warlock, from hydra to
hippogriff, until the earnestness of pretence sent agreeable shivers
down her back, and she edged a trifle nearer to her mother.

But when pretence became a bit too real and too grotesque she had
always a perfect antidote. It was merely necessary to make a quick
picture of an angel or two, a fairy prince, a swan, and she felt
herself in their company, and delightfully protected.

* * * * *

There was a night when the flowing roar of the gale outside filled the
lamplit silence; when the snow was drifting level with the window
sills; when Adoniram, unable to prowl abroad, lay curled up tight and
sound asleep beside her where she sat on the carpet in the stove
radiance. Wearied of drawing castles and swans, she had been listening
to her father reading passages aloud from the book on his knees to her
mother who was sewing by the lamp.

Presently he continued his reading:

"I asked Alaro the angel: 'Which place is this, and which people are
these?'

"And he answered: 'This place is the star-track; and these are they
who in the world offered no prayers and chanted no liturgies. Through
other works they have attained felicity.'"

Her mother nodded, continuing to sew. Ruhannah considered what her
father had read, then:

"Father?"

"Yes----" He looked down at her absently.

"What were you reading?"

"A quotation from the Sacred Anthology."

"Isn't prayer really necessary?"

Her mother said:

"Yes, dear."

"Then how did those people who offered no prayers go to Heaven?"

Her father said:

"Eternal life is not attained by praise or prayer alone, Ruhannah.
Those things which alone justify prayer are also necessary."

"What are they?"

"What we really _think_ and what we _do_--both only in Christ's name.
Without these nothing else counts very much--neither form nor
convention nor those individual garments called creed and
denomination, which belief usually wears throughout the world."

Her mother, sewing, glanced gravely down at her daughter:

"Your father is very tolerant of what other people believe--as long as
they really do believe. Your father thinks that Christ would have
found friends in Buddha and Mahomet."

"Do such people go to Heaven?" asked Ruhannah, astonished.

"Listen," said her father, reading again: