"Let me test you. Miss Brown, have you such a book in the house? Oh,
yes, here is an elegantly bound copy, but looking as if never opened.
And now, Miss Winthrop, this city is full of all sorts of horrid people,
living in alleys and tenement houses. They are poor, half-naked, hungry,
and sometimes starving. Many are in prison, and more ought to be; many
are strangers, more utterly alone and lonely in our crowded streets
than on a desert island. They are suffering from varieties of disgusting
disease, and having a hard time generally. How many hungry people have
you fed? How many strangers (I do not mean distinguished ones from
abroad) have you taken in and comforted? How many of the naked have
you clothed? And how long is your list of the sick and imprisoned that
you have visited, my luxurious little lady?"

A real pallor overspread Miss Winthrop's sunny face, for she saw what
was coming, but she answered, honestly, "I have done practically nothing
of all this." Then she added: "Papa and mamma are not willing that I
should visit such places and people. I have asked that I might, but
they always discourage me, and tell of the awful experiences of those
who do."

"Then they don't believe the Bible, either," said Christine; "for if
they did they would insist on your doing it; and if you believed you
would do all this in spite of them; for see what is written here; the
very Being that you worship and dedicate your churches to will say,
because of your not doing this, 'Depart from me, ye cursed, into
everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.' And this is
but one of many similar passages. Now all this is a monstrous fable
to me. The idea of any such experiences awaiting my light-hearted
little Sybarite here!"