I can not afford it. Society is neither my master
nor my servant, neither my father nor my sister; and so long as
she does not bar my way to the kingdom of heaven, which is the
only society worth getting into, I feel no right to complain of
how she treats me. I have no claim on her; I do not acknowledge
her laws--hardly her existence, and she has no authority over me.
Why should she, how could she, constituted as she is, receive
such as me? The moment she did so, she would cease to be what she
is; and, if all be true that one hears of her, she does me a
kindness in excluding me. What can it matter to me, Letty,
whether they call me a lady or not, so long as Jesus says
_Daughter_ to me? It reminds me of what I heard my father
say once to Mr. Turnbull, when he had been protesting that none
but church people ought to be buried in the churchyards. 'I don't
care a straw about it, Mr. Turnbull,' he said. 'The Master was
buried in a garden.'--'Ah, but you see things are different now,'
said Mr. Turnbull.--'I don't hang by things, but by my Master. It
is enough for the disciple that he should be as his Master,' said
my father.--'Besides, you don't think it of any real consequence
yourself, or you would never want to keep your brothers and
sisters out of such nice quiet places!'--Mr. Turnbull gave his
kind of grunt, and said no more."
After passing Mary, Mr.
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