nd I shall pray Jesus to
do it when he gets around to it."

However it might be with our Lord's betrayer, there was one soul now seen
to be deservedly in hell. Through the patient study of the Scriptures as
expounded by Grandfather Delcher, the little boy presently found himself
accepting without demur the old gentleman's unspoken but sufficiently
indicated opinion. His father was in everlasting torment--having been not
only unbaptised, but godless and a scoffer. With a quickening sense of the
majesty of that Spirit infinitely good, a new apprehension of His plan's
symmetry, he read the words meant to explain, to comfort him, silently
indicated one day by the old man:

"Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one
vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

"What if God, willing to show His wrath, and to make His power known,
endured with much long suffering the vessels of wrath fitted to
destruction?

"And that he might make known the riches of his glory on the vessels of
mercy, which he had afore prepared unto glory."

It hurt at first, but the young mind hardened to it dutifully--the big,
laughing, swaggering, scoffing father--a device of God made for torment,
that the power of the All-loving might show forth! If the father had only
repented, he might have gone straight to heaven as did Cousin Bill J. For
the latter had obtained grace in his last days, and now sang acceptably
before the thrones of the Father and the Son. But the unbaptised scoffer
must burn forever--and the little boy knew at last what was meant by
"the majesty of God."

BOOK TWO

The Age of Reason

[Illustration]

CHAPTER I

THE REGRETTABLE DEMENTIA OF A CONVALESCENT

"You know you _please_ me--_really_ you do!"

Allan, perfect youth of the hazel eyes and tawny locks, bent upon
inquiring Nancy a look of wholly pleasant reassurance, as one wishful to
persuade her from doubt.

"I'm not joking a bit. When I say you please me, I mean it."

His look became rather more expansive with a smile that seemed meant to
sympathise guardedly with her in her necessary rejoicing.

Meekly, for a long second, Nancy drew the black curtains of her eyes,
murmuring from out the friendly gloom:

"It's very good of you, Allan!"

Then, before he could tell reasons for his pleasing, which she divined he
was about to do, the curtains were up and the eyes wide open to him with a
question about Bernal.

He tu