He was about to reply, "Forgive you for what?" but he checked himself.
Somehow, he could not feign ignorance as to what she meant, neither
could he use meaningless words to her.

"We were very rude to you yesterday, both father and I; and I wanted to
make some explanations to you, so you would understand. I am so sorry."

"You and your father are already forgiven. If there were a grain of
ill-feeling against him this afternoon, it all completely vanished when
I heard him talk at the services."

"You were there?"

"Yes. Now don't you worry." He was nearly to say "Little Sister;" but
again he checked himself. "I am a 'Mormon,'" he continued. "I am not
ashamed of it, because I know what it means. Only those who don't know
despise the word."

"Neither am I ashamed of it," she said as she looked him fairly in the
face. "I know a little--a very little--about the 'Mormons,' but that
which I know is good."

"What do you know?"

"I'll tell you. One evening, in Kansas City I stopped to listen to two
young men preaching on the street. They were just boys, and they did not
have the appearance of preachers. You must know that I have always been
interested in religion, and religious problems. Perhaps that is natural,
seeing my father is a minister. I read his books, and many are the