een studying
about this winter," she said, "Mention something of Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob, and Peter and Paul. Who was Abraham?"

"Abraham was a coward," I said.

"A what?" And her voice was a little shriek. "A what?"

"A coward. He was! He passed his wife off for his sister, fearing
trouble for himself, and not thinking of consequences for her."

"That will do," she said, and she fanned harder than ever, and looked
real frightened at Mr. Benson, who was blowing his nose. "Susie Rice,
who was Jacob?"

Susie didn't know. Nobody knew, so I spoke again.

"Jacob was a rascal. He deceived his father and stole from his brother.
But he prospered and repented, and died prominent."

Mr. Benson got up and said he believed his nose was bleeding, and went
out quick, and since then Miss Sallie has never asked me a single
question. Not one.

Now I wonder what made Martha speak out like that? Abraham and Jacob
were good men who did some bad things, but generally only their goodness
is mentioned. While you're living it's apt to be the other way.

But I'm glad the bad is overlooked in time. Maybe that is what God will
do with everybody. He'll wipe out all the wrongness and meanness, and
see through it to the good. I hope that's the way it's going to be, for
that's my only chance.

Since Miss Sallie stopped asking me anything, and I her, I have a lovely
time in my mind taking things off the other children and putting them on
the Orphans. There's Margaret Evans. In the winter she's always blue and
frozen, and I'd give her that Mallory child's velvet coat and gray muff
and tippet, and put Margaret's blue cape and calico dress on her.

Poor little Margaret! She's so humble and thankful she gets even less
than the rest, it looks like, though I suppose in clothes she has the
same allowance, and the difference, maybe, is in herself.

Some people are born to be stepped on, and of steppers there are always
a-plenty.

After Sunday-school we walk to the church we're going to, two by two,
just alike and all in blue. The minister always mentions us in his
prayers, except at St. John's, the prayer-book not providing for Orphans
in particular.

When church is over we march home and have dinner, and after dinner we
study the lesson for next Sunday and practise hymns until time for the
afternoon service. That begins at four, and some of the town ministers
preach or talk, generally preach, long and wearisome.

The Episcopal minister g