expecting to get as much common sense and earnest there as they do
among the new lights and little 'progressive-thinkers' that are
trying to find it all out over again, they might spare these
gentlemen and themselves a great deal of their trouble."

The exclamation rose half-way to her lips again,--"I never knew you
thought like this. I never heard you talk of these things before!"

But she held it back, because she would not stop him by reminding
him that he _was_ talking. It was just the truth that was saying
itself. She must let it say on, while it would.

"Un--"

She stopped there, at the first syllable. She would not even call
him "Uncle Titus" again, for fear of recalling him to himself, and
hushing him up.

"There is something--isn't there--about those who _attain_ to that
resurrection; those who are _worthy_? I suppose there must be some
who are just born to this world, then, and never--'born again?'"

"It looks like it, sometimes; who can tell?"

"Uncle Oldways,"--it came out this time in her earnestness, and her
strong personal appeal,--"do you think there are some people--whole
families of people--who have no business in the reality of things
to be at all? Who are all a mistake in the world, and have nothing
to do with its meaning? I have got to feeling sometimes lately, as
if--_I_--had never had any business to be."