“Honey, I wish I could help you.  It’s that hawk, as Jonas calls him, that’s at the bottom of all this trouble.  I don’t believe but what he’s told some lies or ’nother.  I don’t believe but what he’s a bad man.  I allers said I didn’t ’low no good could come of a man that puts on costly apparel and wears straps.  I’m afeard you’re making a idol of Gus Wehle.  Don’t do it.  Ef you do, God’ll take him.  Misses Pearsons made a idol of her baby, a kissin’ it and huggin’ it every minute, and I said, says I, Misses Pearsons, you hadn’t better make a idol of a perishin’ creature.  And sure enough, God tuck it.  He’s jealous of our idols.  But I can’t help helpin’ you.  You’re a onbeliever yet yourself, and I ’low taint no sin fer you to marry Gus.  It’s yokin’ like with like.  I wish you was both Christians.  I’ll speak to Jonas.  I don’t know what I ought to do, but I’ll speak to Jonas.  He’s mighty peart about sech things, is Jonas, and got as good a heart as you ever see.  And—­”

“Cynth-ee A-ann!” It was the energetic voice of Mrs. Anderson rousing the house betimes.  For the first time Julia and Cynthy Ann noticed the early light creeping in at the window.  They sat still, paralyzed.

“Cynth-ee!” The voice was now at the top of the stairs, for Mrs. Anderson always carried the war into Africa if Cynthy did not wake at once.

“Answer quick, Cynthy Ann, or she’ll be in here!” said Julia, sliding behind the bed.

“Ma’am!” said Cynthy Ann, starting toward the door, where she met Mrs. Abigail.  “I’m up,” said Cynthy.

“Well, what makes you so long a-answerin’ then?  You make me climb the steps, and you know I may drop down dead of heart-disease any day.  I’ll go and wake Jule.”

“Better let her lay awhile,” said Cynthy, reproaching herself instantly for the deception.

Mrs. Anderson hesitated at the top of the stairs.

“Jul-yee!” she called.  Poor Jule shook from head to foot.  “I guess I’ll let her lay awhile; but I’m afraid I’ve already spoiled the child by indulgence,” said the mother, descending the stairs.  She relented only because she believed Julia was conquered.

“I declare, child, it’s a shame I should be helping you to disobey your mother.  I’m afeard the Lord’ll bring some jedgment on us yet.”  For Cynthy Ann had tied her conscience to her rather infirm logic.  Better to have married it to her generous heart.  But before she had finished the half-penitent lamentation, Jule was flying with swift and silent feet down the hall.  Arrived in her own room, she was so much relieved as to be almost happy; and she was none too soon, for her industrious mother had quickly repented her criminal leniency, and was again climbing the stairs at the imminent risk of her precarious life, and calling “Jul-yee!”

CHAPTER XVI.

JONAS EXPOUNDS THE SUBJECT.