Levine’s sallow face was set with pain.  “Why, child, this isn’t right.  You’re too young for such thoughts!  Lydia, do you read the Bible?”

She nodded.  “I’ve tried that too—­but Jesus might have believed everything He said was true, yet there mightn’t have been a word of truth in it.  Do you believe in God?”

John’s hold on the thin hands tightened.  He stared long and thoughtfully at the snowflakes sifting endlessly past the window.

“Lydia,” he said, at last.  “I’ll admit that my faith in the hereafter and in an All-seeing God has been considerably shaken as I’ve grown older.  But I’ll admit too, that I’ve refused to give the matter much thought.  I tell you what I’ll do.  Let’s you and I start on our first travel trip, right now!  Let’s start looking for God, together.  He’s there all right, my child.  But you and I don’t seem to be able to use the ordinary paths to get to Him.  So we’ll hack out our own trail, eh?  And you’ll tell me what your progress is—­and where you get lost—­and I’ll tell you.  It may take us years, but we’ll get there, by heck!  Eh, young Lydia?”

Lydia looked into the deep black eyes long and earnestly.  And as she looked there stole into her heart a sense of companionship, of protection, of complete understanding, that spread like a warm glow over her tense nerves.  It was a sense that every child should grow up with, yet that Lydia had not known since her mother’s death.

“Oh!” she cried, “I feel happier already.  Of course we’ll find Him.  I’ll begin my hunt to-morrow.”

John smoothed her tumbled hair gently.  “We’re great friends, aren’t we, Lydia!  I’ve an idea you’ll always believe in me no matter what folks say, eh?”

“You bet!” replied Lydia solemnly.

John Levine went back to his duties as sheriff and Lydia and Amos and Lizzie missed him for a long time.  But gradually life fell back into the old routine and spring, then summer, were on them almost before they realized winter was gone.

Lydia did well at school, though she still was an isolated little figure among her schoolmates.  The cooking teacher added sewing to the course, after Christmas, and Lydia took up “over and over stitch” at the point where her gentle mother had left off five years before.  She progressed so famously that by the time school closed she had learned how to use a shirtwaist pattern and how to fit a simple skirt.  With her plans for a summer of dress-making she looked with considerable equanimity on the pretty spring wardrobes of her schoolmates.

They saw less than ever of Levine when summer came, for he was beginning his campaign for Congressman.  He came out occasionally on Sunday and then he and Lydia would manage a little stroll in the woods or along the lake shore when they would talk over their progress in the Spiritual Traveling they had undertaken in January.  Lydia had decided to give the churches a chance and was deliberately attending one Sunday School after another, studying each one with a child’s simple sincerity.