tampering with you?"

"Nobody, honey, only them that's got a 'ligion that larns them to give
bread to the hungry, warm clothes to the freezing, and fire to keep
life in their bodies; and tells the poor ole nigger that God loves her
soul as well as he do buckra folks. So I'm gwine to be one," replied
old Mabel, striking her stick on the hearth.

"You are a poor, benighted creature, and I hope God will pity you on
the score of your ignorance," said one of the well-meaning ladies.

"I hope he will, misses, I hope he will," she said, humbly.

"We had some things for you; but, of course, we cannot leave them now;
the papists must take care of their own poor--_we_ have enough of our
own," observed one.

"Thank'ee, misses."

"Downright impudence!" they muttered, flouncing out to their carriage,
without seeing May, who had taken refuge behind the bed, which was hung
round with some faded patchwork, to keep out air.

"And so you're bearing testimony for Christ already, Aunt Mabel," said
May, coming towards her with outstretched hands.

"Bless your dear face, honey, it seems best for me. I ben so long
without sarving God, that I shall 'quire all the help I can get in this
world and the next. Them ladies, honey, is well-meaning, I reckon.
They 'tended me a little while last winter, but they wanted to send me
out yonder--I wouldn't go; I'm mighty poor and helpless, Miss May, and
was friendless then, but I couldn't go thar!"

"Where, Aunt Mabel?"

"To the poor-house, my child. But, honey, arter you went away
yesterday, I all at once remembered a Catholic woman--she was a
half-Indian, half-nigger, from the West Indies--that I used to do a
good turn for now and then. She was dying with consumption, and she
used to talk to me about the saints in glory praying for us, the
blessed mother of Jesus Christ, and purgatory, in her broken lingo,
till I b'lieved every word she said. I was trying to recollect, arter
you left me, and it all come pat into my head at once."

"These are consoling, helpful, and holy doctrines, Aunt Mabel; but tell
me if you are satisfied that the Roman Catholic Church is the true
Church of God?" said May, smoothing her withered hand.

"I can't 'splain myself, honey; but thar's something in here that tells
me _it is_," said the simple old creature, laying her hand on her
breast.

"And that _something_ is a great and glorious gift, Aunt Mabel--the
gift of FAITH. But hear what our dear Lord said,