This unusual condescension on his part was repaid on theirs with all the warmth of their race; and Candace, in particular, devoted herself to the Doctor with all the force of her being.

There was a legend current in the neighborhood, that the first efforts to catechize Candace were not eminently successful, her modes of contemplating theological tenets being so peculiarly from her own individual point of view that it was hard to get her subscription to a received opinion.  On the venerable clause in the Catechism, in particular, which declares that all men sinned in Adam and fell with him, Candace made a dead halt:—­

“I didn’t do dat ar’, for one, I knows.  I’s got good mem’ry,—­allers knows what I does,—­nebber did eat dat ar’ apple,—­nebber eat a bit ob him.  Don’t tell me!”

It was of no use, of course, to tell Candace of all the explanations of this redoubtable passage,—­of potential presence, and representative presence, and representative identity, and federal headship.  She met all with the dogged,—­

“Nebber did it, I knows; should ’ave ’membered, if I had.  Don’t tell me!”

And even in the catechizing class of the Doctor himself, if this answer came to her, she sat black and frowning in stony silence even in his reverend presence.

Candace was often reminded that the Doctor believed the Catechism, and that she was differing from a great and good man; but the argument made no manner of impression on her, till, one day, a far-off cousin of hers, whose condition under a hard master had often moved her compassion, came in overjoyed to recount to her how, owing to Dr. H.’s exertions, he had gained his freedom.  The Doctor himself had in person gone from house to house, raising the sum for his redemption; and when more yet was wanting, supplied it by paying half his last quarter’s limited salary.

“He do dat ar’?” said Candace, dropping the fork wherewith she was spearing doughnuts.  “Den I’m gwine to b’liebe ebery word he does!”

And accordingly, at the next catechizing, the Doctor’s astonishment was great when Candace pressed up to him, exclaiming—­

“De Lord bress you, Doctor, for opening de prison for dem dat is bound!  I b’liebes in you now, Doctor.  I’s gwine to b’liebe ebery word you say.  I’ll say de Catechize now,—­fix it any way you like.  I did eat dat ar’ apple,—­I eat de whole tree, an’ swallowed ebery bit ob it, if you say so.”

And this very thorough profession of faith was followed, on the part of Candace, by years of the most strenuous orthodoxy.  Her general mode of expressing her mind on the subject was short and definitive.

“Law me! what’s de use?  I’s set out to b’liebe de Catechize, an’ I’m gwine to bliebe it,—­so!”

While we have been telling you all this about her, she has fastened her horse, and is swinging leisurely up to the house with a basket on either arm.

“Good morning, Candace,” said Mrs. Scudder.  “What brings you so early?”