ented it.

When they went home, she ran upstairs and knocked at Aunt Victoria's
door. It was immediately opened, and Beth, seeing what she took for an
old gentleman in a short black petticoat and loose red jacket, with
short, thick, stubbly white hair standing up all over his head,
started back. But it was only Aunt Victoria without her cap and front.
When she saw Beth's consternation, the old lady put her hand up to her
head. "I had forgotten," she muttered; then she added severely, "But
you should never show surprise, Beth, at anything in anybody's
appearance. It is very ill-bred."

"I don't think I shall ever be surprised again," Beth answered
quaintly. "But I want you to tell me, Aunt Victoria. What do you
believe in?"

"What do you mean, child?"

"Oh, you know, about God, and the Bible, and cant, and that sort of
thing," Beth answered evenly.

"Come in and sit down," said Aunt Victoria.

Beth sat on a classical piece of furniture that stood in the window, a
sort of stool or throne, with ends like a sofa and no back. It had
belonged to Aunt Victoria's father, and she valued it very much.
Beth's feet, as she sat on it, did not touch the ground. Aunt Victoria
stood for a moment in the middle of the room reflecting, and, as she
did so, she looked, with her short, thick, stubbly white hair, more
like a thin old gentleman in a black petticoat and loose red jacket
than ever.

"I believe, Beth," she said solemnly, "I believe in God the Father
Almighty. I believe that if we do His holy will here on earth, we
shall, when we die, be received by Him into bliss everlasting; but if
we do not do His holy will, then He will condemn us to the bad place,
where we shall burn for ever."

"But what _is_ His holy will?" Beth asked.

"It is His holy will that we should do right, and that we should not
do wrong. But this is a big subject, Beth, and I can only unfold it to
you bit by bit."

"But will you unfold it?"

"I will, as best I can, if you will listen earnestly."

"I am always in earnest," Beth answered sincerely.

"No one can teach you God," Aunt Victoria pursued. "He must come to
you. '_Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright
of heart. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament
showeth His handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto
night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language where their
voice is not heard. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift