Page:Honore Willsie--Judith of the godless valley.djvu/59

 "No, Grandma! And none of the men do that count in this valley. Is it just old woman stuff, like they say?" "Maybe!" sniffed Grandma.

"And if you believe it," Doug rushed on, "why did you let us run the preacher out?"

"O, the preacher! Pooh! He's nothing but a blankety blank sissy like the rest of the sky pilots!"

"But can't I believe like you do, Grandma? I'm just the unhappiest guy in the world!"

"You mean," the old lady spoke deliberately, "that this is the first funeral you've seen that's set you to thinking and the fear of death is on you for the first time. I hope it'll do you good, Doug. You're an awful rough little devil."

Douglas swallowed audibly. "Grandma," he cried passionately, "how can I get to believe what you do?"

Grandma looked thoughtfully from her plump milch cow to the lantern, and from the lantern to Douglas. "Doug, I don't think you can, living among the folks you do. To have my kind of faith, you've got to have a mother that breeds it in you from the time you're a baby."

Douglas, his face looking absurdly young above his broad shoulders, said despairingly, "I don't believe you want to help me."

"Well," Grandma was still deliberate, "I don't believe a wild young devil like you really wants help. You're just scared."

Douglas rose, drawing himself to his full height. He was deeply offended. "I thought you might understand me!" he exclaimed. He strode out to Buster and galloped home.

It was extremely difficult to find a moment alone with Judith in the two-room cabin; but the chores were late