That's the
bitter black God o' my faither. What for did He let the snake in the garden
'tall if He really loved them fust poor fools? Why dedn' He put they
flamin' angels theer sooner. 'Twas the snake they should have watched an'
kep' out."
Uncle Chirgwin looked at her with round terrified eyes. She had never
echoed Barron's sentiments to such a horrified listener.
"Doan't, for pity's sake, Joan! The wickedness of it! Him as taught you to
think such frightful thoughts tried to ruin your sawl so well as your body.
Oh, if you'd awnly up an' say, 'That man was wrong an' I'll forget en an'
turn to the Saviour.'"
"You caan't understan'. I do put ugly bits o' thot afore 'e, but if you'd
heard him as opened my eyes, you'd knaw 'tedn' ugly taken altogether. I
knaws so much, but caan't speak it out. Us done no sin, an' I ban't shamed
to look the sun in the faace, nor you. An' he will come--he will--if
theer's a kind God in heaven he'll come back to me. If 'e doan't, then I'll
say that faither's God's the right wan."
"Doan't 'e put on a bold front, Joan gal. Theer's things tu deep for the
likes o' us. You ban't prayin' right, I reckon. Theer's a voice hid in you.
Listen to that. Nature's spawk to 'e an' now er's dumb. Listen to t'other,
lassie. Nature do guide beasts an' birds an' the poor herbs o' the field;
but you--you listen to t'other. You'll never be happy no more till you awns
'twas a sad mistake an' do ax in the right plaace for pardon.
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