"You know, mother," Henrik was saying, "this restored gospel answers so
many of life's perplexing questions. It is broad, full of common sense,
and mercy. Father, as you well know, was not a religious man. When he
died, Pastor Tonset gave it as his opinion that father was a lost
soul--"

"Father was a good man."

"I know he was, mother; and to say that because he could not believe in
the many inconsistencies taught as religious truths, he is everlastingly
lost, doesn't appeal to me--never did. Father, as all of us, will
continue to learn in the spirit world to which all must go; and when the
time comes, he will, no doubt, see the truths of the gospel and accept
them. And here is where the beauty of true religion comes in: it teaches
that there is hope beyond the grave; that salvation is not limited to
this life; that every soul will have a chance, either here or hereafter.
You, mother, have worried over father's condition. Don't do it any more;
he will be all right." He felt like adding that she had more reason to
worry over the living, but he said no more.

Selma came in with the coffee, and no further discourse was had on
religious topics. Although Henrik had quit using coffee with his meals,
he occasionally sipped a little in the company of his mother. This
evening he took the proffered cup from his sister, who soon withdrew
again, and then Henrik and his mother continued their talk. It was along
the lines of the old faith, grounded into them and their forefathers
since Christianity had been "reformed" in their country. As a boy,
Henrik had not been religious, as that term was understood by his
people, but nevertheless he had in him a strain of true devotion which
the message of the American missionary had aroused. However, this