The woman stood watching the man, as long as she could see him, and long after, with her left hand lifted to the jamb of the door, higher than her head. Then from the distance where he passed from sight over the brow of the hill, another figure of a man appeared, and slowly made its way down to the cabin. As she knew while he was still far off, it was Matthew Braile who, as long as he sat in the seat of the scorner, with his chair tilted against the wall, seemed a strong middle-aged man; but when he descended from his habitual place, with the crook of his stick, worn smooth by use, in his hard palm, one saw that he was elderly and stiff almost to lameness. He carried himself with a forward droop, and his gaze bent ponderingly on the ground, as if he were not meaning to look her way, and would pass without seeing her. “Squire Braile!” she called to him, and as he straightened himself and turned round toward her, she besought him, “Do you believe there's any God?” “Oh!” he answered, and he smiled at the challenge from the somewhat lonely elevation which he knew the thoughts of his neighbors kept, aloof from the sordid levels of politics and business. “Why, Nancy, haven't we got one, right here in Leatherwood?” “That's what makes me think there ain't any, Squire Braile. If you're not in too much of a hurry, I wish you'd stop and talk to me a minute. I'm in trouble.” “Most women are; or men, for the matter of that. What is it, Nancy? I'm rather stronger on law than gospel; but if I can be any help, why you know your Joey's an old friend of mine, and I'll be glad to help you.” He came toward her where she had stepped from the threshold and sat crouched on the hewn log, and stood looking down at her before he sank at her side. “You may think it's pretty strange, my asking _you_ for help. Won't you set? I can't let you come inside because the baby's just got to sleep.” “Well,” he assented, “if you're not afraid to be seen with such an infidel in the full light of day,” he jested, confronting her from the log where he sank. “What would Brother Gillespie say?” She ignored his kindly mockery, and again she began, “What makes you believe there's a God? You don't believe in the Bible?” “Not altogether, Nancy.” “Do you believe in the Bible God?” “As much as the Bible'll let me.” “Then, do you believe in the miracles?” “What are you after, Nancy Billings?” “If you saw a miracle, would you believe it?” “That would depend on who did it. Now, I want you to let _me_ do a little of the catechizing. I've liked you and Laban ever since you came to Leatherwood, and you know how your Joey has all but brought my boy back to me. Well, do _you_ believe in God?” “No!” “Why don't you?” “A God that would let Joseph Dylks claim to be Him, and let them poor fools kneel down to him and worship him? Would an all-wise and all-powerful God do that?”