“I haf gone mitout mine dinner many und many der day to puy dese.  Mine pody schtays in dis hole in dis old house, put mit dese vat I gather since ven I vas young, I go to heafen every night.  Hah, hah, hah! dot Engleesh voman on der virst vloor dink she know a petter vay off going to heafen; und she dalk her reeleegious schargou to me, ven she know notting at all put vat der briests dell her.  If dey dell her de moon von pig green scheese she swar it ish so; put dese dings dell der druf, und der great laws vork on for efer no matter vat voolish beoples perlieve.  It vas all law und vorce, und it vould be von pig muddle in der heafens if it vas all vat der briests say.”

Mildred was in a dilemma, for she felt that she could not be silent under his outspoken scepticism, and yet if she revealed her mind she doubted whether there would be any result except the alienation of the man whose friendship she was bent on securing.  After a moment’s hesitation she saw but one honorable course, and so said firmly, “Mr. Ulph, I believe you are an honest man, but I want you to think of me as an honest girl, also.  If I wanted to know about astronomy—­and I do want to know very much—­I would come to you.  If I wanted to know about some other things I would go to my minister.  I believe in law as truly as you do, but I believe God made the laws—­that they are simply His will.  If I respect your unbelief, you must respect my faith—­that is fair; and I think you are one who would deal fairly and do justice to all.  Mrs. Wheaton knows little of astronomy and many other things, no doubt, but she has known how to be a very kind, good neighbor to us, and her religion is mine.”

The old German stared at her a moment, then scratched his head as he replied, half apologetically and half pityingly, “You vas notting put a leedle schild, put you haf a goot heart.  You vas honest, und you schtands oop vor your vriends, und I likes dot.  You may perlieve all der vables you vish; und I vill dells you more vables apout der schtars dat ish shust so goot und shust so old.”

“But you will tell me the truth about them, too, won’t you?” pleaded Mildred, with a smile that would have thawed a colder nature than Mr. Ulph’s.  “I want to learn a wee bit of what you know.  I have so little that is bright and pretty in my life now that I just long to catch some glimpses of what you see in the skies.  Perhaps I could help you by writing down your observations.  I would ask questions only when you said I might.”

“Veil, now, dot’s a good idea.  Mine eyes vas getten old, und you vas young, put it von’t last; you vas a young ding, und girls vas vlighty and vant—­vat you call him?—­peaux und vrolics ven der nights vas goot and glear.”

“Try me,” said Mildred, with a little emphatic nod.