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“Listen to her! Was I to be always scrubbing floors with my rheumatiz? Get off upstairs and you’d better lie down awhile.”

“I’m going upstairs, but I’m not going to lie down,” said Emily. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

“There’s one thing I’d advise you to do,” said Ellen, determined to lose no chance of doing her duty, “and that is to kneel down and pray to God to make you a good and respectful and grateful child.”

Emily paused at the foot of the stairs and looked back.

“Father said I wasn’t to have anything to do with your God,” she said gravely.

Ellen gasped foolishly, but could not think of any reply to this heathenish statement. She appealed to the universe.

“Did any one ever hear the like!”

“I know what your God is like,” said Emily. “I saw His picture in that Adam-and-Eve book of yours. He has whiskers and wears a nightgown. I don’t like Him. But I like Father’s God.”

“And what is your father’s God like, if I may ask?” demanded Ellen sarcastically.

Emily hadn’t any idea what Father’s God was like, but she was determined not to be posed by Ellen.