“No, ma'am, no, not in that; but I think she understands how to look at it; and if she asks me to go with her, she knows that she is asking for something she doesn't expect to get.” “But why? I want to know why you do not go to church. There are many of us who try to live good lives, but we are told, and we know, that this is not enough; that we cannot save ourselves, however hard we may try, but must go to Him who gave Himself to save us, and who bade us assemble together to worship Him.” “Well, ma'am, if anyone feels like that, I think he is right to go to church. I do not object to my wife going; if it is a pleasure and comfort to her I am glad of it. I only say, let us all have the same liberty, and go or not just as we please.” “We all have it, Mr. Cawood. But if you believe that there is One who made us, and is mindful of us, you must know that it is a good thing to obey His written word, and serve Him in the way He has told us.” “I'm sorry I can't see my way to do as you wish. My wife has given me all your messages, and the papers and tracts you've been so good as to leave for me. But I haven't read them. I can't, because you see my mind's made up about such things, and I don't see the advantage of unmaking it again.” Here was a stubborn man to deal with! His wife heard him quietly, as if it were all familiar to her. Fan, on the other hand, listened with an expression of intense interest. For this man answered not like the others. He seemed to know his own mind, and did not instantly acquiesce in what was said, and unhesitatingly make any promise that was asked of him. But how had he been able to make up his mind? and what to think and believe? That was what she wanted to know, and was waiting to hear. Mrs. Churton, glancing round on her small audience, encountered the girl's eager eyes fixed on her face; and she reflected that even if her words should avail nothing so far as Cawood was concerned, their effect would not be lost on others whose hearts were more open to instruction. She addressed herself to her task once more, and her words were meant for Fan and for the carpenter's wife as well as for the carpenter. “I think,” she began, “that I can convince you that you are wrong. There cannot be two rights about any question; and if what you think is right--that it is useless to attend church and trouble yourself in any way about your eternal interests--then all the rest of us must be in the wrong. I suppose you do not deny the truth of Christianity?” “Since you put it in that way, I do not.”