"And there is Brahma, and Vishnu, and there are ever so many gods in India. The people pray to them. And temples. When they want anything very much, they go and pray for it. There was a woman whose little son was very ill, and if he lived he was going to be a great prince, or something, and she gathered up her precious stones and her necklace and took them to the temple for the god. Father sent an English doctor, but they wouldn't let him see the little boy. He was so pretty, too. I used to see him in the court." "And did he live?" Miss Eunice asked, much interested. "No; he didn't. And the father beat her for losing the jewels." "You see, those gods have no power." "Did you ever pray for anything you wanted very much?" Cynthia's bright eyes studied the placid face before her. "Yes," the lips murmured faintly. "And did you get it?" A flush stole over the puzzled countenance. "My dear, God doesn't see as we do. And He knows what is best for us, and gives us that. Maybe our prayer wasn't right." "How can you tell when a prayer is right or wrong?" inquired the young theologian. "Why, you have to leave that to God;" in a low, resigned tone. "I didn't want to come here. I wanted to stay with father. I didn't know there was any one beside, and I do not believe any one will ever love me so well. But he promised to come when the business was all done. So I prayed to the God of father's Bible, and I went to the temple with Nalla and put down a half-crown--it was all the money I had. But"--her eyes filled with tears and her voice had a break in it--"father begged so, and I came. But if Captain Corwin does not bring him next time I shall go back. I can't live without him." The mild blue eyes of Miss Eunice filled with tears as well. She was not sure this had been the wisest course. The absolute truth was always best. But she temporized also in a vague fashion. "Yes; you can tell then. And you may come to like us so well you may stay content." "Oh, if he comes! Then it will be all right. And you think I ought to pray for that?" It was a cruel strait for Miss Eunice and staggered her faith. She was not to lead astray or harm "one of the least of these." But the child _was_ a heathen with no real knowledge of the true God. Like a vision almost, Miss Eunice looked back at her own childhood, and the awful, overshadowing power she believed was God, who wrote down every wicked thought and wrong deed, and would confront her with them at the Judgment Day. She prayed nightly, often in the night, when she woke up, and she was no surer of God's love than this little heathen child. "It is right to pray for the things we want, but to be resigned if God doesn't see fit to give them to us." "Then the prayers are thrown away. And do you know just what God is?"