"There is no such thing as a wicked child," interrupted his mentor, impatiently; then, catching herself up--"They may be foolish and wayward"--she looked down on him sternly--"and they may have to be severely punished on this earth, but they don't know enough to be wicked, not enough to deserve being shut out of heaven." "I've heard Grandfather Tallmadge say somebody--I think it was some saint--had seen"--he lowered his voice--"had seen an infant in hell, a span long." He shuddered. "Nonsense!" retorted Mrs. Gano, angrily. "No saint ever saw anything of the sort--nor no sane creature. It was that John Calvin." "Oh! and you think perhaps he--" "He didn't know what he was talking about. He had a black, despairing mind, and is the only human creature who ever had any valid excuse for being a Calvinist." "Oh!" "I suppose they've not neglected in Boston to tell you there is such a thing as 'the unpardonable sin'?" The ironic intonation was lost on Ethan. "Oh no," he said, with the animation of one who recognizes an old friend; "Grandfather Ta--" "Now, never forget that the only unpardonable sin is to doubt the mercy of God." "Then you think that when the end of the world comes--" "I think," she interrupted, with a lyrical swell in her voice as she remembered the prophet's vision--"I _know_, that 'the ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joys upon their head; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.' And now we've had enough of that for to-night," she ended, with an abrupt change of voice and style.