known any more than you do. HE had never seen Him."

"It's all very well for you to say so," said Felicity, "but YOU
don't know either. I wish I could believe that isn't like
God--but I don't know what to believe."

"Well, if you won't believe me, I suppose you'll believe the
minister," said the Story Girl. "Go and ask him. He's in the
house this very minute. He came up with us in the buggy."

At any other time we would never have dared catechize the
minister about anything. But desperate cases call for desperate
measures. We drew straws to see who should go and do the asking,
and the lot fell to Felix.

"Better wait until Mr. Marwood leaves, and catch him in the
lane," advised the Story Girl. "You'll have a lot of grown-ups
around you in the house."

Felix took her advice. Mr. Marwood, presently walking
benignantly along the lane, was confronted by a fat, small boy
with a pale face but resolute eyes.

The rest of us remained in the background but within hearing.

"Well, Felix, what is it?" asked Mr. Marwood kindly.

"Please, sir, does God really look like this?" asked Felix,
holding out the picture. "We hope He doesn't--but we want to
know the truth, and that is why I'm bothering you. Please excuse