"Uncle," I said, "it does not seem real. The other would."
"In other words, Cary--you do not believe it."
"Do not believe it!" cried I. "Surely, Uncle, I believe in our Lord!
Don't I say the Creed every Sunday?"
"Probably you do, my dear."
"But I do believe it!" cried I again.
"You do believe--what?" said my Uncle Drummond.
"Why, I believe that Christ came down from Heaven, and was crucified,
dead, and buried, and rose again, and ascended into Heaven. Of course I
believe it, Uncle--every bit of it."
"And what has it to do with you, my dear? It all took place a good
while ago, did it not?"
I thought again. "I suppose," I said slowly, "that Christ died to save
sinners; and I must be a sinner. But somehow, I don't quite see how it
is to be put together. Uncle, it seems like a Chinese puzzle of which I
have lost a piece, and none of the others will fit properly. I cannot
explain it, and yet I do not quite know why."
"Listen, Cary, and I will tell you why."