"Possibly. But you needn't decide in a hurry, Cyrus. Take your time and look around a little." "Do people always look around before choosing their religion?" Dr. Alton laughed. "No, they do not. In fact, it is considered a sign of moral depravity to think too much for yourself in those matters. To be at peace with mankind you must follow your neighbors. It is all merely a matter of geography. When you know the name of the country you know their religious beliefs. There is not much thinking done." "That's funny," said Cyrus. "But a Christian is lots better than any of the others--isn't he?" Again Dr. Alton smiled. "Well, he himself thinks he is. But all virtue is not centered in the Christian. When you get up to-morrow and wish to get well and strong you will begin to eat again, won't you?" "Gracious! I guess I will! I could eat a house." "Yes, you will be hungry enough. And you will feel like eating quite a variety of things, I suppose." "Oh, won't I!" And as Cyrus spoke the pallor of the Saint was submerged in a glow of fleshly desire. "Good! And you shall have it! Now we will play, for a minute, that Christianity is pie." "Is what?" "Is pie. Just pie. But there are various creeds of pie among the Christians; there's apple, pumpkin, mince, squash, cocoanut, and all the others." "Me for cocoanut!" exclaimed the invalid. "Cocoanut pie beats 'em all!" "That's a matter of taste. But you prefer cocoanut pie to all the others?" "Oh, yes!" "Very well. Now there's apple for Methodist, mince for Episcopalian, cocoanut for Unitarian, pumpkin for Congregationalist, and so on, through the list." Cyrus laughed. "And which are you?" "I haven't decided yet. But you must stick to your colors and have more faith in cocoanut than in all the others." "Oh, yes! That's easy!" "And so you eat nothing but cocoanut pie." "Nothing else at all?" "Nothing else. So long as you are a Christian you must stick to your creed. You must feel considerably wiser and better than outsiders who are eating grapes, and roast turkey and custards and watermelons, and pudding and ice cream, and all who eat anything except your one kind of pie." "Oh, I couldn't do that!" "But you must, if you want to be a true defender of your cocoanut creed. For all the others are outsiders. Those pudding, turkey, grapes, custard and ice cream people don't believe in your pie." Cyrus slowly shook his head and pushed out his lips. "I couldn't despise people for eating things they liked." "Neither could I, Cyrus. So, for the present, anyway, we will eat whatever we want to. And we are just as sure of going to Heaven as if we stuck to one kind of pie." "Yes, we will," declared the invalid, and in his face and voice had come the enthusiasm of fresh hopes and a new life. "If our minister," he said, "would talk like that in the pulpit, about roast turkey and ice cream and things to eat, it would be more--more interesting. Wouldn't it?"