See how perfectly those trees and hills are mirrored in the river; and how the water holds the color of the sky.

Don't you think God is good to make the world so beautiful for us, child ?" "'Beautiful'!" cried poor, deformed Judy, in a voice that shrilled in vicious protest.

"If there is a God, like you-all are allus a-talkin' 'bout, an' if He sure 'nough made them things, like you-all sees 'em, He sure hain't toted fair with me." "Hush, Judy!" pleaded Auntie Sue.

"Please don't, child!" But the mountain girl rebelliously continued: "Look at me! Just look at me! If that there God of your'n is so all-fired good, what did He go an' let my pap git drunk for, an' beat me like he done when I was a baby, an' make me grow up all crooked like what I be?
'Good'?
Hell! A dad burned ornery kind of a God I call Him!" For some time, Auntie Sue did not speak, but stood with her face upturned to the sky.

Then the low, gentle voice again broke the silence: "See, Judy, dear; the light is almost gone now, and there is not a cloud anywhere.