that night and Judith, instead of helping her mother with the supper preparations, went out to milk, and so Doug's second interview that evening was in the cow shed, for when he reached the home corral, Judith had not finished her task.
This time, he was not precipitate. He sauntered into the little stable with a manner of large leisure.
"Hello, Jude!"
"Hello, Douglas! Finished feeding?"
"No. I just got back. What did you think of the funeral?"
"I'm not thinking of it at all."
"Jude, don't you believe there's any hereafter?"
"Doug, I don't want to talk about it."
"But, Judith, I'm lonely and I've got to talk to some one."
Judith turned an indignant face toward the tall boy. "Don't you suppose I'm lonely, too? What good does talk do? Religion is all right for little kids but you can't believe in fairy tales as you grow up."
"But what can we do?" insisted Douglas, the sweat breaking out above his lips again. "Doesn't the thought of no God, no hereafter, just paralyze you?"
"I tell you," repeated Judith obstinately, "I just don't let myself think about it."
"Then what's made you so cross ever since that night?"
Judith rose and set the brimming milk pail in a feed box. Her eyes, in the lantern light, widened with a horror so devastating that Douglas clutched the manger behind him.
"How did you know? Doug, that's it and there's no place to go for help because there isn't any help for that!"
