"But then," she proceeded, "I don't see how a parson can help being sound on that, though it is surprising what people will doubt, even the things that are plainest to other people. I've many a time heard my father say that the proper holding of the doctrine of reprobation was necessary to eternal life. I suppose you believe that, Mr. Ward," she added, with a little toss of her head, "even if you don't go all the way with the confession, about infants?" "Yes," John said sadly, "I must; because not to believe in reprobation is to say that the sacrifice of the cross was a useless offering." "And of course," Mrs. Grier went on, an edge of sarcasm cutting into her voice, "Mrs. Ward thinks so, too? Of course she thinks that a belief in hell is necessary to get to heaven?" The preacher looked at his wife with a growing anxiety in his face. "No," Helen said, "I do not think so, Mrs. Grier." Mrs. Grier flung up her little thin hands, which looked like bird-claws. "You _don't_!" she cried shrilly. "Well, now, I do say! And what do you think about the heathen, then? Do you think they'll be damned?" "No," Helen said again. Mrs. Grier gave a gurgle of astonishment, and looked at Mr. Ward, but he did not speak. "Well," she exclaimed, "if I didn't think the heathen would be lost, I wouldn't see the use of the plan of salvation! Why, they've got to be!" "If they had to be," cried Helen, with sudden passion, "I should want to be a heathen. I should be ashamed to be saved, if there were so many lost." She stopped; the anguish in John's face silenced her. "Well," Mrs. Grier said again, really enjoying the scene, "_I'm_ surprised; I wouldn't a' believed it!" She folded her hands across her waist, and looked at Mrs. Ward with keen interest. Helen's face flushed under the contemptuous curiosity in the woman's eyes; she turned appealingly to John. "Mrs. Ward does not think quite as we do, yet," he said gently; "you know she has not been a Presbyterian as long as we have." He rose as he spoke, and came and stood by Helen's chair, and then walked at her side into the parlor. Mrs. Grier had followed them, and heard Helen say in a low voice, "I would rather not go to church this afternoon, dearest. May I wait for you here?" "Well," she broke in, "I shouldn't suppose you would care to go, so long as it's just about the ways and means of sending the gospel to the heathen, and you think they're all going right to heaven, any way." "I do not know where they are going, Mrs. Grier," Helen said wearily; "for all I know, there is no heaven, either. I only know that God--if there is a God who has any personal care for us--could not be so wicked and cruel as to punish people for what they could not help." "Good land!" cried Mrs. Grier, really frightened at such words, and looking about as though she expected a judgment as immediate as the bears which devoured the scoffing children.