"Yes," replied Jack, wondering what the stool could have to do with the matter. "My father had this stool turned upside down on his lap, and upon it lay a great book from which he was reading in low, reverent tones, the story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead. I noticed in one glance, as children do notice everything, that the door was barred and the window carefully darkened so that no gleam of light should appear without, and also that my brother seemed to be on the watch. I stood still in my hiding-place and listened to that wonderful tale, not losing one word, till my father came to that place where he that was dead came forth bound hand and foot with grave-clothes. Then I could no longer bear the excitement, and I cried out aloud. In another moment, my mother had drawn me out of my hiding-place, and I stood in the midst of the company." "I was terribly frightened. I thought when I saw my father's grave face that I had done something dreadful; and I fell down on my knees at his feet and prayed him to pardon me. I shall never forget his look and tone as he raised me and placed me between his knees. It was seventy years ago and more, yet I seem to see and hear him now as he kissed me—a rare thing for him to do—and said to me—" "'My dear son, I am not angry with you. You have unwittingly intruded into a great and dangerous secret, a secret which concerns men's lives, and you must now show that you are able to keep it.'" "I was none the less frightened for this address. My head was as full of tales of enchantment as ever yours was, and I could think of nothing but that my father and his friends were engaged in some unlawful art, and I glanced fearfully around me, expecting to see I knew not what frightful appearance. My father seemed to perceive that I was frightened, for he passed his arm round me and bade me not be afraid." "'This book,' said he, laying his hand on the volume, 'this book, my son, is no other than the Word of God, done into English by that good priest, Master Wickliffe of Lutterworth, in the days of my father, thy grandfather, for whom thou art named. My father held this book as his most precious treasure, albeit he suffered both persecution and loss of goods for its sake; and when he died, he bequeathed it to me. If I were known to possess it, the book would be taken and destroyed, and not only thy father and mother, but these neighbors, might be burned at the stake. So you see, my child, into what a perilous secret you have intruded yourself.'" "'But, father,' I ventured to ask timidly, 'are you sure that this is really and truly the Word of God?'" "'Yes, my son,' he replied, 'I am well assured of it.'" "'How then?' I asked. 'I thought that only heretics were burned, and how should a man be accounted a heretic for reading the Word, of God?'" "My father and his friends smiled, and one of them said, 'Truly, my dear lad, that is a question which has been asked by older heads than yours.'"