ked?"

"Why, yes, it is, generally; perhaps always."

"Brother Nathan and Sister Hetty were backsliders; Sister Tabitha said
so. She told Jane never to speak their names again any more than if they
was dead."

"Then you had better not speak of them, either."

"There's so many things better not to speak of in the world, sometimes I
think 't would be nicer to be an angel."

"Nicer, perhaps, but one has to be very good to be an angel."

"Backsliders could n't be angels, I s'pose?"

"Not while they were backsliders; but perhaps they'd begin to climb
again, and then in time they might grow to be angels."

"I should n't think likely," remarked Sue, decisively, clicking her
needles as one who could settle most spiritual problems in a jiffy. "I
think the sliding kind is diff'rent from the climbing kind, and they
don't make easy angels."

A long pause followed this expression of opinion, this simple division
of the human race, at the start, into sheep and goats. Then presently
the untiring voice broke the stillness again.

"Nathan and Hetty slid back when they went away from here. Did we
backslide when we left Fardie and Jack?"

"I'm not sure but that we did," said poor Susanna.

"There's children-Shakers, and brother-and-sister Shakers, but no
father-and-mother Shakers?"

"No; they think they can do just as much good in the world without being
mothers and fathers."

"Do you think so?"

"Ye-es, I believe I do."

"Well, are you a truly Shaker, or can't you be till you wear a cap?"

"I'm not a Shaker yet, Sue."

"You're just only a mother?"

"Yes, that's about all."

"Maybe we'd better go back to where there's not so many Sisters and more
mothers, so you 'll have somebody to climb togedder with?"

"I could climb here, Sue, and so could you."

"Yes, but who'll Fardie and Jack climb with? I wish they'd come and see
us. Brother Ansel would make Fardie laugh, and Jack would love farmwork,
and we'd all be so happy. I miss Fardie awfully! He did n't speak to
me much, but I liked to look at his curly hair and think how lovely it
would be if he did take notice of me and play with me."

A sob from Susanna brought Sue, startled, to her side.

"You break my heart, Sue! You break it every day with the things you
say. Don't you love me, Sue?"

"More'n tongue can tell!" cried Sue, throwing herself into her mother's
arms. "Don't cry, darling Mardie! I won't talk any more, not for days
and days! Let me wipe your p