“But after awhile,” the child continued, “they found out that it hurt him lots worse to meddle with his books, so they did that, just to worry him. You _know_ how he loves that King Arthur book of his! Yesterday they cut out every single picture in it with their jackknives,—just hacked it all up! You can’t _hurt_ those boys,—they’re too tough; but they’re awful ’fraid-cats, and you can scare ’em easy. So I just put on a sheet, and went in and warned ’em that they dasn’t touch David’s books again. He cries every time they do, and that makes his hay fever worse.” “But, dear,” Barbara said quietly, “it wasn’t nice to do it. They were in your own house, you know—” “We didn’t invite them,” interrupted Gassy. “And, besides, you must never scare people. It’s a very dangerous thing to do. If they had been frightened into brain fever, you would never forgive yourself. And one thing more, dear, I don’t like your calling yourself the Holy Ghost.” “That was because my sheet was torn. The hole-y ghost, you know.” “I know, but it isn’t a reverent thing to say.” “But, Barbara, it doesn’t seem wicked to me to say that. I never could even imagine the Holy Ghost. It just seems like words, and nothing else. Every time I go to church they talk about the Holy Ghost, and the Spirit, and the Life Infinite, and I can’t understand ’em. Even Jehovah sounds awful big and far off. But when they say Jesus,—Baby Jesus, I mean, or Little Boy Jesus, or Man Jesus,—that is easy and sweet. I always like best to think of Him that way; not like a God, so far off, and with so many things to manage, that it’s hard to believe that He cares, but like a man, that made mistakes, and had to try over again.” “Yes,” said Barbara, understandingly. “I like to think,” went on Gassy, “that He did just the same things that we do, and loved the same things, and wanted the same things. It wouldn’t help me any to have Him be _glad_ to die and go up in a chariot of fire, with people hollering, like Elijah did. But it does help me to know that He _wanted_ to live, just like I do, and cried about leaving everything, at first, and then was big and brave enough to stand it. You know I wouldn’t be irreverent about _Him_, Barbara!” “No, and it would hurt you to have any one else irreverent about Him. And that is why I don’t like to have you say what you did about the Holy Ghost; you may hurt some one else.” “Well, I won’t do it again; that is, I won’t be irreverent,” promised Gassy. “But about scaring them, Barbara Grafton, you mustn’t try to make me be sorry about that, for I’d be telling a lie if I said I was. They deserved it, and there wasn’t any other way of making them let David alone. I’m glad I frightened some of the bad out of them.” And with this Barbara was forced to be satisfied. * * * * *