“I didn’t mean to disturb your peace of mind, Sam; I asked only in order to learn how much foundation there was to your faith.  They haven’t them, you say.  How will they get them?”

“I’ll earn ’em,” said the cobbler, with a savage dash of his awl which one of his fingers barely escaped.

“But suppose you can’t; suppose trade slackens, or Larry takes a notion to a new helper.”

“Then I’ll beg, rather than have ’em suffer.”

“And if folks won’t give?”

“Then my folks’ll have to go without.”

“In spite of your new, loving, strong friend,—­your Saviour?  If He’s all you take Him to be, aren’t you sure He’ll look out for your family?”

“Mr. Bartram,” said the cobbler, resting for a moment, and straightening his weary back, “if I was in trouble,—­been doin’ somethin’ wrong, for instance, an’ was hauled into court, an’ had you for my lawyer,—­though of course I couldn’t expect to have so smart a man,—­I’d ort to believe that you’d do everythin’ that could be done an’ ort to be done, ortn’t I?”

“Certainly, Sam, certainly,” said the lawyer, with his customary professional look of assurance.

“But I wouldn’t know all about it in advance, would I?  Even if you was to tell me all you meant to do an’ how you’d do it, I couldn’t take it in.  If I could, I’d be just as smart as you,—­the idee!—­an’ wouldn’t need you at all.”

Both suppositions were so wildly improbable that the lawyer indulged in a sarcastic smile.

“Well, then,” continued Sam, “here’s somebody helpin’ me more than any man ever could,—­somebody that’s smarter than any lawyer livin’.  I s’pose you’ll own up to that?”

The idea that any being, natural or supernatural, could be wiser than one of the Bartrams was not pleasing to the lawyer, when suggested so abruptly, but it was conceded, after a moment of thought, by a condescending nod of the head.

“Then,” Sam continued, “how am I goin’ to be supposed to know all that He’s doin’ an’ not doin’ for me, an’ when He’s goin’ to do somethin’ else, or whether He’s goin’ to do it at all.  If I was as smart as a lawyer, I wouldn’t need one; if I was as smart an’ good as Him that’s lookin’ after me, there wouldn’t need to be any God or Saviour, would there?”

“Then you are satisfied He is God and Saviour, eh?  Some wiser men have believed differently.”

“I only know what I was told an’ what I’ve read for myself, sir.  The man that put me up to it told me not to try to believe everythin’ that everybody else did, but to believe as much as I could an’ live up to it, bein’ extra particular about the livin’ up.”

“But you ought to know something—­have some distinct idea—­as to whom you’re believing in.  What do you know about Him, after all?”

“I know,” said the cobbler, “just what I’ve told you before, when you’ve asked me the same question.  I know He was once in the world, an’ didn’t do anybody any harm, an’ done a good deal of good, an’ taught folks to do right an’ how to do it.  Everybody believes that, don’t they?”