The old woman grew as pale as ashes when confronted with the stern eyes of this advocate who turned white into black so easily. “Why--why, sir,” she stammered, “you--you will make me think I have committed a murder if you go on!” “I think I might do that without much difficulty. It would be quite simple to indicate to you in a very few words in what manner the Almighty has already seen fit to mark the sense of His personal displeasure. Is it not your own conduct, do you not suppose, which has provoked Him to strike down your innocent little grandchild with diphtheria? And if the child dies, which we will pray it will not, what would be easier than to render you responsible for its death? You see that is the worst of evil, it is so cumulative in its effect. Once it has begun its dread courses, who shall predict their end? A good action is self-contained and stops where it began; a bad one fructifies with immortal seed and practically goes on for ever--_vide_ the poet Shakespeare. Why, you are eating nothing. I am afraid I am spoiling your breakfast.” “Oh, sir, I didn’t know I was so wicked,” said the charwoman, with tears in her eyes. “Opinions are easily formed. As for reputations, they can be made and unmade and made again in an hour. But might I suggest, Mrs. Brown, that if one happens to be righteous in one’s own eyes, it does not very greatly matter if one goes to jail to expiate so pious an opinion. Do I make myself clear?” “I--I don’t say I am good, sir, but--I hope I am not a downright bad one.”