closely connected with each other.

Almost any one would have smiled at this remark, but Grandpa Jerrold did
not. On the contrary there came into his eyes a look of horror as he
exclaimed:

"Shut me in the bedroom! That would be dreadful indeed."

Then, springing up, he hurried away into the field and disappeared
behind a ledge of rocks, where, unseen by any eye save that of God, he
wept more bitterly than he had ever done before.

"Why, oh, why," he cried, "must this innocent baby's questions torture
me so? and why can I never take him in my arms or lay my hands upon him
lest they should leave a stain?"

Then holding up before him his hard, toil-worn hands, he tried to recall
what it was he had heard or read of another than himself who tried to
rid his hands of the foul spot and could not.

"Only the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin," he whispered
to himself, while his lips moved spasmodically with the prayer habitual
to them; four words only, "Forgive me, Lord, forgive."

It had always been a strong desire with Grey to be led around the
premises by his grandfather, who had steadily resisted all advances of
that kind, until with a child's quick intuition, Grey seemed to
understand that his grandfather's hands were something he must not
touch.