ehold
th' face o' their Faither aboon?'

'Eh! Deborah, lass, aw never thought as Mr. Penrose ud turn thi
yed and o'. Theer's a fearful few faithful ones laft i' Zion
naa-a-days. Bud aw tell thee, th' Lord'll smite thi idol, and
it'll be thro' great tribulation that tha'll enter th' Kingdom.'

'I'd ha' yo' to know, Amos Entwistle, that I'm noan in yor
catechism class, an' I'm noan baan to be. Yo' can tak' an' praitch
yor rubbidge somewheer else. Yo've no occasion to come to me, I
con tell yo'.' And then, looking down at the reposeful little
face, she kissed it, and continued, 'Did he co thee an idol, my
darlin'? Ne'er heed him, owd powse ud he is!'

Before nightfall Deborah's encounter with Amos was the talk of
Rehoboth, and it was freely reported that the old woman had become
an infidel. Whether the cause of her infidelity resulted from Mr.
Penrose's preaching or the advent of her grandchild was a disputed
point. Old Amos declared, however, 'that there were a bit o' both
in it, but he feared th' chilt more than th' parson.'

Deborah's first great spiritual conflict--as they called it in
Rehoboth--was when her grandchild cut its first teeth. The eye of
the grandmother had been quick to note a dulness and sleepiness in
the baby--strange to a child of so lively and observant a
turn--and judging that the incisors were parting the gums, she
wore her finger sore with rubbing the swollen integuments.

One morning, as she was continuing these operations, she felt the
child stiffen on her knee, and looking, saw the little eyes glide
and roll as though drawn by a power foreign to the will. A
neighbour, who was hastily called, declared it to be convulsions,
and for some hours the little life hung in the balance. It was
during these hours that Deborah fought her first and only great
fight with Him whom she had been taught to address as 'th'
Almeety.'

Ever since her conflict with Amos, she could not free her mind
from superstitious thoughts about 'the idol.' Did she love the
child overmuch, and would her over-love be punished by the child's
death? She had heard and read of this penalty which the Almighty
imposed upon those who loved the creature more than the Creator;
and she, poor soul, to hinder this, had tried to love both the
Giver and the gift. Nay, did she not love the Giver all the more,
because she loved the gift so much? This was the question that
vexed her. Why had God given her something to love if He did not
m