"Dr. King," said David, scraping up the sugar from his saucer, "is God
good because He likes to be, or because He has to be?"

"David," said William King, "you will be the death of me!"

"Because, if He likes to be," David murmured, "I don't see why He gets
praised; and if He has to be, why--"

"Dr. King," said Helena breathlessly, "I'm afraid--really, I'm not
prepared for company; and--"

"Oh," said William, cheerfully, "don't bother about that. Mrs. King is
going to bring up one or two little things, and I believe Mrs. Barkley
has some ideas on the subject. Well, I must be going along. I hope you
won't be sorry to see us? The fact is, you are too lonely up here with
only David to keep you busy, though I must say, if he fires off
questions like this one, I should think you would be pretty well
occupied!"

When he had gone, Helena Richie sat looking blankly at David. "What on
earth shall I do!" she said aloud.

"Did God make Sarah?" David demanded.

"Yes, dear, yes!"

"Did He make me, and the Queen, and my rabbits?"

"Why, of course. Oh, David, you do ask so many questions!"