Minnie lifted up her voice, and added to the general uproar.  Ester left the eggs she was beating, and picked up broken dishes.  Mrs. Ried’s voice arose above the din: 

“Sadie, take Minnie and go up stairs.  You’re too full of play to be in the kitchen.”

“Mother, I’m real sorry,” said Sadie, shaking herself out of the great wet apron, laughing even then at the plight she was in.

“Pet, don’t cry.  We didn’t drown after all.”

“Well!  Miss Sadie,” Mr. Hammond said, as he met them in the hall.  “What have you been up to now?”

“Why, Mr. Hammond, there’s been another deluge; this time of dish-water, and Birdie and I are escaping for our lives.”

“If there is one class of people in this world more disagreeable than all the rest, it is people who call themselves Christians.”

This remark Mr. Harry Arnett made that same Saturday evening, as he stood on the piazza waiting for Mrs. Holland’s letters.  And he made it to Sadie Ried.

“Why, Harry!” she answered, in a shocked tone.

“It’s a fact, Sadie.  You just think a bit, and you’ll see it is.  They’re no better nor pleasanter than other people, and all the while they think they’re about right.”

“What has put you into that state of mind, Harry?”

“O, some things which happened at the store to-day suggested this matter to me.  Never mind that part.  Isn’t it so?”

“There’s my mother,” Sadie said thoughtfully.  “She is good.”

“Not because she’s a Christian though; it’s because she’s your mother.  You’d have to look till you were gray to find a better mother than I’ve got, and she isn’t a Christian either.”

“Well, I’m sure Mr. Hammond is a good man.”

“Not a whit better or pleasanter than Mr. Holland, as far as I can see. I don’t like him half so well.  And Holland don’t pretend to be any better than the rest of us.”

“Well,” said Sadie, gleefully, “I dont know many good people.  Miss Molton is a Christian, but I guess she is no better than Mrs. Brookley, and she isn’t.  There’s Ester; she’s a member of the church.”

“And do you see as she gets on any better with her religion, than you do without it?  For my part, I think you are considerably pleasanter to deal with.”

Sadie laughed.  “We’re no more alike than a bee and a butterfly, or any other useless little thing,” she said, brightly.  “But you’re very much mistaken if you think I’m the best.  Mother would lie down in despair and die, and this house would come to naught at once, if it were not for Ester.”

Mr. Arnett shrugged his shoulders.  “I always liked butterflies better than bees,” he said.  “Bees sting.”

“Harry,” said Sadie, speaking more gravely, “I’m afraid you’re almost an infidel.”

“If I’m not, I can tell you one thing—­it’s not the fault of Christians.”