The boy moved forward into the light, leaving the little girl in the shadow. He held her hand tight. “Let her alone,” he said. “Deliver us from the fire of hell and take us into the kingdom of heaven,” called the preacher. “Amen, Hallelujah,” came out upon the night. The strange man advanced another step toward Hazel. Scipio stood still, his chin forward like a bulldog. The man muttered a curse and turned away. A hymn was sung and the service broke up. Granny was among the first to leave the building. “I’s glad to find you, child,” she said as Hazel came up to her. “Where you done gone?” “I felt faint, Granny, and came out to get a breath of fresh air,” Hazel explained. At that moment old man Lee called roughly to his son, “Come here, you lazy hound,” and moved as if to strike him. Hazel started forward. “Please don’t blame Scip, Mr. Lee,” she said. “He’s been taking care of me.” And turning to the boy she added: “Thank you, Scip.” Something in her speech, perhaps the unfamiliar “Mr. Lee,” quieted the old man. He turned away from his eldest son who went to help with the baby. Hazel was silent on the way home, for she felt that this time Granny could not share her thoughts. The old woman was happy at having seen her friends and hummed a hymn. Perhaps, had Hazel given her her confidence, she would have said that hell was just a place to scare people with: that the Lord never meant the devil should keep anyone there. They reached home before the Lees whom they saw coming slowly behind, Scipio with the baby in his arms. Granny gave Hazel a good-night kiss, but the little girl did not go at once to bed. For some time, wrapped in her warm shawl, she sat at the window, looking out upon the stars. They rested her perturbed spirit. At length, a smile lighted her face. A new thought had come to her. “My own father wouldn’t have hurt anybody,” she whispered. “Not even if they were wicked. And God is my Father in Heaven.” And comforted, she knelt and said the Lord’s prayer, and asked God to bless her mother and Charity and Mr. and Mrs. Perkins and Granny and--and Scip. CHAPTER VIII BROTHER AND SISTER “Do you know, Scip,” Hazel confided, “I’m dreadfully afraid of pigs.” “They won’t hurt you,” Scip replied. The two children were sitting among the pines on the hill that overlooked their homes. A few hogs grunted near them among the cones. “Of course, I’m not afraid when you’re here,” Hazel explained, “but when I come up alone sometimes they try to get around me and it makes me fidgety.” “They might give you fleas,” said Scip. He found a stick for her. “Hit ’em with that,” he said. “That’ll fix ’em.” “Would it do for cows, too, Scip?” “Yes’m.” “I’m afraid of cows and pigs and I’m terribly afraid of bulls. I expect you think I’m a coward.” “No, I don’t,” Scip said, looking squarely at her. “You wasn’t afraid of my father, Sunday night.” Hazel changed the subject. “What do you want to do when you grow up?” she asked.