"No," said the mother sadly. "Would you be easy if I was a Christian?" Mrs. Carpenter nodded. There was a pause. "I would like to be a Christian, mother, if it would make you feel easy; but--somehow--I don't want to." "I know that." "How do you know that?" "Because you hold off. If you were once willing, the thing would be done." There was silence again; till Rotha suddenly broke it by asking, "Mother, can I help my will?" "What do you mean?" "Why! If I don't want to be a Christian, can I make myself want to?" "That seems to me a foolish question," said her mother. "Suppose you do not want to do something I tell you to do; need that hinder your obeying?" "But this is different." "I do not see how it is different." "What is being a Christian, then?" "You know, Rotha." "But tell me, mother. I don't know if I know." "You ought to know. A Christian is one who loves and serves the Lord Jesus." "And then he can't do what he has a mind to," said Rotha. "Yes, he can; unless it is something wrong." "Well, he can't do _what he has a mind to;_ he must always be asking." "That is not hard, if one loves the Lord." "But I don't love him, mother." "No," said Mrs. Carpenter sadly. "Can I make myself love him?" "No; but that is foolish talk." "I don't see why it is foolish, I am sure. I wish I did love him, if it would make you feel better." "I should not have a care left!" said Mrs. Carpenter, with a sort of breath of longing. "Why not, mother?" "Get the Bible and read the 121st psalm,--slowly." Rotha obeyed. "'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth'"-- "There! if you were one of the Lord's dear children, you would say that; that would be true of you. Now go on, and see what the Lord says to it; see what would follow." Rotha went on. "'He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.'--_Israel_, mother." "The true Israel are the Lord's true children, of any nation." "Are they? Well--'The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand; the sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in, from this time forth, and even for evermore. Praise ye the Lord.'" "Would anybody be well kept that was kept so?" Mrs. Carpenter broke forth, with the tears running down her face. "O my little Rotha! my little daughter! if I knew you in that care, how blessed I should be!" The tears streamed, and Mrs. Carpenter in vain tried to wipe them dry. Rotha looked on, troubled, and a little conscience-stricken. "Mother," she began, "don't he take care of anybody except Christians?"