"Thank you," said Eurie, in an absent-minded tone: and she had to be
twice recalled from her thoughts before she turned to look at the plate
spread before her. On the instant an angry flush arose, spreading itself
over her face as she looked. "You do not mean that you are to present
this?" she said, at length.

"Why not?" asked Leonard, in astonishment. Mr. Holden hastened to
explain:

"It is not often chosen for tableaux, I admit; but on that account is
all the more desirable. We want to get away from the ordinary sort. This
is magnificent in its working up. I had it in New York last winter, and
it was one of the finest presented."

"It will not be presented with my help." Eurie's tone was so cold and
haughty that Marion turned toward her in surprise, and for the first
time glanced at the plate.

"Why, Miss Mitchell!" Mr. Holden exclaimed, "I am surprised and grieved
if I have annoyed you by my selection. I was thinking how well you would
light up an Oriental scene. Is it the representation of the Saviour that
you dislike? I cannot see why that should be objectionable. It is
dealing with him as a mere man, you know. It is simply an Oriental dress
of a male figure that we want to represent, and this figure of Christ as
he sat at the well is so exceedingly minute and so carefully drawn that
it works up finely."

"Christ at the well of Samaria!" read Flossy, now bending over the book,
and her eyes and cheeks told the story of her aversion to the idea. "Who
_would_ be willing to personate the Saviour?"

Mr. Holden was prompt with his answer:

"I have had not the slightest difficulty in that matter. My friend,
Col. Baker here, expressed himself as entirely willing to undertake it.
Why, my dear young ladies, you see it is nothing but the masculine form
of dress that we want to bring out. There is really nothing more
irreverent in it than there is in your looking at this picture here
to-night."

"Then we will not look longer at the picture," Eurie said, drawing back
suddenly, the color on her face deepening into crimson. "It is useless
for you to undertake an argument with me. I will be very plain with you,
and inform you that, aside from the irreverent nature of the tableau, I
consider myself insulted in being chosen to make a public representation
of that character. I am certainly absolved from my promise, Mr. Holden;
and I beg you to withdraw my name from your list at once."

Mr. Holden turned the leaf on the offending picture. He was amazed and
grieved; he had looked at the picture purely in an artistic light; he
supposed all people looked thus at tableau pictures; it was certainly a
compliment that he meant to pay, and not the shadow of a discourtesy;
but since they looked at it in that singular manner, of course it
should be withdrawn from the lists; nothing further should be said about
it. Let him show them, just allow him to show them, one plate which was
the very finest in scenic effect of anything that he had ever gotten up.
The name of it was "The Ancient Feast."

Eurie turned hotly away, but Flossy and Ruth looked. It was a
representation of Belshazzar at his impious feast, at the time when he
was arrested by the handwriting on the wall. Ruth Erskine curled her
handsome lip into something like a sneer.

"Does Col. Baker kindly propose to aid you in representing the hand of
God?" she said, in her haughtiest tones. "He is so willing to lend
himself to the other piece of sacrilege, that one can hardly expect him
to shrink even from this."

Mr. Holden promptly closed his book.

"There is some mistake," he said. "I supposed the ladies and gentlemen
gathered here came in for the purpose of helping, not for ridiculing. Of
course if we differ so entirely on these topics we can be of very little
help to each other."

"So I should judge," Marion said. "And, that being the case, shall we
go?"

"What nonsense!" said Leonard Brooks, following after the retreating
party, but speaking only in a low tone, and addressing Eurie. "One
expects such lofty humbug from Miss Erskine, and even from Miss
Wilbur--the tragic is in her line; but I thought you would enter into
and enjoy the whole thing. I told Holden that you would be the backbone
of the matter."

"Thank you," said Eurie, her voice half choked with indignation and
wounded pride. "And I presume you assisted in the selection of the
characters that I should personate! As I said, I consider myself
insulted. Please allow me to pass."

Much excited, and some of them very much ashamed, they all found
themselves on the street again, Nellis Mitchell being the only one of
the astonished gentlemen who had bethought himself, or had had
sufficient courage to join them.

"Well, what next?" he said.

"Nell," said Eurie, "what do you think of that?"

Nellis shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not according to my way of thinking," he said; "but they told me
you had promised, and I thought if you had, with your eyes open, it was
none of my business. I congratulate you on being fairly out of it. That
Holden is a scamp, I believe."

"And Col. Baker was going to take that character," said Flossy to
herself. And Eurie, in her heart, felt grieved and hurt that her friend
of long standing, Leonard Brooks, could have said and done just what he
had; he could never be to her as though he had not said and done those
things. As for Marion, all she said was:

"I begin to have a clearer idea of what Grace Dennis and her father
mean."

CHAPTER VIII.

DR. DENNIS' STUDY.

THEY walked on in absolute silence for a few minutes, each busy with her
own thoughts. Eurie was the first to speak:

"Girls, I propose we go and call on Dr. Dennis."

Ruth and Marion uttered exclamations of dismay, or it might have been of
surprise. Flossy spoke:

"You don't mean _now_?"

"Now, this minute. We have an hour at our disposal, and we are all
together. Why not, and have it over with? I tell you, that man is afraid
of us! And when you come to think of it, why should he not be? What have
we ever done to help his work; and how much we may have done to hinder
it! I never realized how much, until this present moment. It enrages me
to think how many enterprises, like this one, I have been engaged in
without giving it a thought. Just imagine how such things must look to
Dr. Dennis!"

"But, Eurie, you have never been mixed in with anything like that
performance, as it is to be! What do you mean by admitting it?" It was
Ruth who spoke, in some heat; the association rankled in her heart.

"Not precisely that sort of thing, I admit; but what must be the
reputation I have earned, when I can be so coolly picked out for such
work? I tell you, girls, I am angry. I suppose I ought to be grateful,
for my eyes have certainly been opened to see a good many things that I
never saw before; but it was a rough opening. Shall we go to the
parsonage, or not?"

"Oh, dear! I don't feel in the least like it," Flossy said, timidly.

"Do you ever expect to _feel_ like it?" Eurie asked, still speaking
hotly. "For myself, I must say that I do. I am tired of my place; I
want to be admitted, and belong, somewhere. It is entirely evident to
me that I don't belong where I did. I have discovered that a great many
things about me are changed. I feel that I shall not assimilate well.
Let me get in where I can have a chance. I want to belong to that
Sunday-school, for instance; to be recognized as a part of it, and to be
counted in a place. So do you, Flossy, I am sure; why not settle the
matter?"

Yes, Flossy certainly wanted to belong to that Sunday-school; more than
that, she wanted to belong to that class. Her heart had been with it all
the week. If there was a hope that she might be permitted to try it for
awhile, she was willing even to call on Dr. Dennis, though that act
looked awfully formidable to her.

"I suppose it is very silly not to want to go this evening, as well as
any time," she admitted at last.

"Of course it is," Marion said, energetically. "Let us turn this corner
at once, and in two minutes more we shall have rung his bell; then that
will settle the question. Nothing like going ahead and doing things,
without waiting to get into the mood."

"See here," said Nellis Mitchell, speaking for the first time. "Please
to take into consideration what you propose to do with me? I take it
that you don't want me to make this call with you. My sister has been
remarkably bewildering in her remarks, but I gather that it is something
like a confidential talk that you are seeking with the doctor, into
which I am not to be admitted."

"I forgot that you were along," said Eurie, with her usual frankness.
"No, Nell, we don't want you to call with us; not this time."

"I might ask for a separate room, and make my call on Miss Grace. At
least I might try it; but I doubt her father's permitting such a
tremendous action: so, really, I don't see quite what you are to do with
me. I am entirely at your disposal."

"See here, Nell, couldn't you call for us, in half an hour, say? Girls,
_could_ we stay half an hour, do you suppose? We shall have to do
something of the kind; it won't do for us to go home alone. I see what
we can do, Nell. You go to father's office, and wait just a little
while; if we are not there in half an hour, you can call for us at Dr.
Dennis'; and if we find we are not equal to a call of that length, we
will come to the office; will that do?"

The obliging brother made a low bow of mock ceremony, assured her that
he was entirely at her service, that she might command him and he would
serve to the best of his knowledge and ability, made a careful minute of
the present time, in order to be exact at the half hour, and as they
laughingly declined his offer to ring the doctor's bell for them, he
lifted his hat to them, with the lowest of bows, and disappeared around
the corner.

"He is such a dear fellow!" said Eurie, looking fondly after him.

"I don't see in what respect," muttered Ruth in an aside to Flossy. Ruth
had a special aversion to this young man; possibly it might have been
because he treated her with the most good-humored indifference, despite
all her dignity and coldness.

Meantime, in Dr. Dennis' study, his daughter was hovering around among
the books, trying to bring order out of confusion on the shelves and
table, and at the same time find a favorite volume she was reading. The
doctor turned on a brighter flame of gas, then lowered it, and seemed
in a disturbed state of mind. At last he spoke:

"I don't know that my caution is needed, daughter--I have no reason to
think that it is, from anything in your conduct at least; but I feel
like saying to you that I have less and less liking for those young
ladies, who seem, since their unfortunate freak of attending that
Chautauqua meeting, to have banded themselves together, I can hardly
imagine why; they are certainly unlike enough. But I distrust them in
almost every way. I am sorry that you are at school, under Miss Wilbur's
influence; not that I dread her influence on you, except in a general
way."

At this point Grace opened her bright lips to speak; there was an eager
sentence glowing on her tongue, but her father had not finished his:

"I know all that you can say; that you have nothing to do with her
religious, or non-religious, views, and that she is a splendid teacher.
I don't doubt it; but I repeat to you that I distrust all of them. I
don't know why they have seen fit to come to our Sabbath-school, and to
our meeting this evening, unless it be to gain an unhappy influence over
some whom they desire to lead astray. I can hardly think so meanly of
them as that, either. I do not say that such was their motive, but
simply that I do not understand it, and am afraid of it; and I desire
you to have just as little to do with any of them as ordinary civility
will admit. Hitherto I have thought of Ruth Erskine as simply a leader
of fashion, and of Flossy Shipley as the tool of the fashionable world;
but I am afraid their dangerous friends are leading them to be more. The
tableau affair, to-night, I have investigated to a certain degree, and I
consider it one of the worst of its kind. I would not have you
associated with it for--well, any consideration that I can imagine; and
yet, if I mistake not, I heard them urging you to join them."

Again Grace essayed to speak, but the pealing of the door bell
interrupted her.

"Who is it, Hannah?" Dr. Dennis questioned, as that personage peeped her
head in at the door.

"It is four young ladies, Dr. Dennis, and they want to see you."

Grace arose to depart.

"Do you know any of them, Hannah?" the doctor asked.

"Well, sir, one of them is the Miss Wilbur who teaches, and I think
another is Dr. Mitchell's daughter. I don't know the others."

"Show them in here," said Dr. Dennis, promptly. "And, daughter, you will
please remain. They have doubtless come to petition me for your
assistance in the tableaux, and I have not the least desire to be
considered a household tyrant, or to have them suppose that you are my
prisoner. I would much rather that you should give them your own
opinions on the subject like a brave little woman."

"But father," Grace said, and there was a gleam of mischief in her eye,
"I haven't any opinions on this subject. The most that I can say is,
that you don't wish me to have anything to do with them; and so, like a
dutiful daughter, I decline."

"Well, then," he said, smiling back on her in a satisfied way, "show
them how gracefully you can play the part of a dutiful daughter. While
you are so young, and while I am here to have opinions for you, the
dutiful part cheerfully done is really all that is necessary."

And this was the introduction that the four girls had to the pastor's
study. How shy they felt! Ruth could hardly ever remember of feeling so
very much embarrassed. As for Eurie, she began to feel that distressing
sense of the ludicrous creeping over her, and so was horribly afraid
that she should laugh. Marion went forward to Grace, and in the warm,
glad greeting that this young girl gave, felt her heart melted and
warmed.

Dr. Dennis, confident in the errand that had brought them, decided to
lead the conversation himself, and give them no chance to approach the
topic smoothly.

"Have you done up the tableaux so promptly?" he asked. And while he
addressed his question to Marion, Eurie felt that he _looked_ right at
her.

Marion's answer was prompt and to the point.

"Yes, sir, we have. Miss Mitchell was the only one of us who was
pledged; and I believe she was entirely dissatisfied with the character
of the entertainment, and withdrew her support."

"Indeed!" Dr. Dennis' manner of pronouncing this word was, in effect,
saying, "Is it possible that there can be an entertainment of so
questionable a character that Miss Mitchell will withdraw from it?"

At least that was the way the word sounded to Eurie, but she had been
roused to unusual sensitiveness. The effect was to rouse her still
further, to put to flight every trace of embarrassment and every desire
to laugh. She spoke in a clear, strong voice:

"Dr. Dennis, we shall be talking at cross purposes if we do not make
some explanation of our object in calling this evening. We feel that we
do not belong in the society where you are classing us; in fact, we do
not belong anywhere. Our views and feelings have greatly changed within
a short time. We want to make a corresponding change in our
associations; at least, so far as is desirable. Our special object in
calling just now is, that we know it will soon be time for the communion
in your church, and we have thought that perhaps we ought to make a
public profession of our changed views."

Was ever a man more bent on misunderstanding plain English than was Dr.
Dennis this evening? He looked at his callers in an astonished and
embarrassed way for a moment, as if uncertain whether to consider them
lunatics or not; and then said, addressing himself to Eurie:

"My dear young lady, I fear you are laboring under a mistake as to the
object in uniting with the Church of Christ, and the preparation
necessary. You know, as a church, we hold that something more than a
desire to change one's social relations should actuate the person to
take such a step; that, indeed, there should be a radical change of
heart."

Poor Eurie! She thought she had been _so_ plain in her explanation. She
flushed, and commenced a stammering sentence; then paused, and looked
appealingly at Ruth and Marion.

Finally she did what, for Eurie Mitchell to do, was unprecedented, lost
all self-control, and broke into a sudden and passionate gust of tears.

"Eurie, don't!" Marion said; to her it was actual pain to see tears. As
for Dr. Dennis, he was very much at his wits' end, and Ruth's
embarrassment grew upon her every moment. Flossy came to the rescue.

"Dr. Dennis," she said, and he noticed even then that her voice was
strangely sweet and winning, "Eurie means that we love Jesus, and we
believe he has forgiven us and called us by name. We mean we want to be
his, and to serve him forever; and we want to acknowledge him publicly,
because we think he has so directed."

How simple and sweet the story was, after all, when one just gave up
attempting to be proper, and gave the quiet truth. Ruth was struck with
the simplicity and the directness of the words; she began to have not
only an admiration, but an unfeigned respect for Flossy Shipley. But you
should have seen Dr. Dennis' face. It is a pity Eurie could not have
seen it at that moment; if she had not had hers buried in the sofa
pillow she would have caught the quick glad look of surprise and joy and
heartfelt thankfulness that spoke in his eyes. He arose suddenly, and,
holding out his hand to Flossy, said:

"Let me greet you, and thank you, and ask you to forgive me, in the same
breath. I have been very slow to understand, and strangely stupid and
unsympathetic. I feel very much as I fancy poor doubting Thomas must
have done. Forgive me; I am so astonished, and so glad that I don't
know how to express the feeling. Do you speak for all your friends here,
Miss Flossy? And may I ask something about the wonderful experience that
has drawn you all into the ark?"

But Flossy's courage had forsaken her; it was born of sympathy with
Eurie's tears. She looked down now, tearful herself, and trembling like
a leaf. Ruth found voice to answer for her.

"Our experience, Dr. Dennis, can be summed up in one word--Chautauqua."

Dr. Dennis gave a little start; another astonishment.

"Do you mean that you were converted during that meeting?"

Marion smiled.

"We do not know enough about terms, to really be sure that that is the
right one to use," she said; "at least, I do not. But we do know this,
that we met the Lord Jesus there, and that, as Flossy says, we love him,
and have given our lives into his keeping."

"You cannot say more than that after a hundred years of experience," he
said, quickly.

"Well, dear friends, I cannot, as I said, express to you my gratitude
and joy. And you are coming into the church, and are ready to take up
work for the Master, and live for him? Thank the Lord."

Little need had our girls to talk of Dr. Dennis' coldness and dignity
after that. How entirely his heart had melted! What a blessed talk they
had! So many questions about Chautauqua, so much to tell that delighted
him. They had not the least idea that it was possible to feel so much at
ease with a minister as they grew to feel with him.

The bell rang and was answered, and yet no one intruded on their quiet,
and the talk went on, until Marion, with a sudden recollection of Nellis
Mitchell, and their appointment with him, stole a glance at her watch,
and was astonished into the announcement:

"Girls, we have been here an hour and a quarter!"

"Is it possible!" Ruth said, rising at once. "Father will be alarmed, I
am afraid."

Dr. Dennis rose also.

"I did not know I was keeping you so," he said. "Our theme was a
fascinating one. Will you wait a moment, and let me make ready to see
you safely home?"

But it appeared, on opening the door, that Nellis Mitchell occupied an
easy-chair in the parlor, just across the hall.

"I'm a patient young man, and at your service," he said, coming toward
them as they emerged. "Please give me credit for promptness. I was here
at the half hour."

As they walked home, Nellis with his sister on one arm, and Flossy
Shipley on the other, he said:

"Now, what am I to understand by this sudden and violent intimacy at the
parsonage? Miss Flossy, my sister has hitherto made yearly calls of two
seconds' duration on the doctor's sister when she is not home to receive
them."

"A great many things are to be different from what they have hitherto
been," Flossy said, with a soft little laugh.

"So I begin to perceive."

"Nell," said Eurie, turning back when she was half way up the stairs,
having said good-night, "are you going to help them with those
tableaux?"

"Not much," said Nellis.

And Eurie, as she went on, said:

"I shouldn't be surprised if Nell felt differently about some things
from what he used to. Oh, I wonder if I can't coax him in?"

CHAPTER IX.

A WHITE SUNDAY.

AMONG other topics that were discussed with great interest during that
call at Dr. Dennis' was the Sunday-school, and the place that our girls
were to take in it, Flossy was not likely to forget that matter. Her
heart was too full of plans concerning "those boys."

Early in the talk she overwhelmed and embarrassed Dr. Dennis with the
request that she might be allowed to try that class. Now if it had been
Ruth or Marion who had made the same request, it would have been
unhesitatingly granted. The doctor had a high opinion of the
intellectual abilities of both these young ladies, and now that they
had appeared to consecrate those abilities, he was willing to receive
them.

But this little summer butterfly, with her small sweet ways and winning
smile! He had no more idea that she could teach than that a humming-bird
could; and of all classes in the school, to expect to do anything with
those large wild boys! It was preposterous.

"My dear friend," he said, and he could hardly keep from smiling, even
though he was embarrassed, "you have no idea what you are asking! That
is altogether the most difficult class in the school. Some of our best
teachers have failed there. The fact is, those boys don't _want_ to be
instructed; they are in search of fun. They are a hard set, I am really
afraid. I wouldn't have you tried and discouraged by them. We are at a
loss what to do with them, I will admit; for no one who can do it seems
willing to try them. In fact, I am not sure that we have anyone who
_can_. I understand your motive, Miss Flossy, and appreciate your zeal;
but you must not crush yourself in that way. Since you have been out of
the Sunday-school for so many years, and, I presume, have not made the
Bible a study--unhappily, it is not used as a text book in many of our
schools--would it not be well for you to join some excellent Bible-class
for awhile? I think you would like it better, and grow faster, and we
really have some superior teachers among the Bible-classes."

And while he said this, the wise doctor hoped in his heart that she
would not be offended with his plain speaking, and that some good angel
would suggest to Marion Wilbur the propriety of trying that class of
boys.

Flossy was not offended, though Marion Wilbur, spoken to in the same
way, would have been certain to have felt it. Little Flossy, though
sorely disappointed, so much so that she could hardly keep the tears
from rising, admitted that she did not know how to teach, and that, of
course, she ought to study the Bible, and would like ever so much to do
so.

It so happened that the other girls were more than willing to be
enrolled as pupils; indeed, had not an idea of taking any other
position. So, after a little more talk, it was decided that they all
join Dr. Dennis' class, every one of them expressing a prompt
preference for that class above the others. In his heart Dr. Dennis
entirely approved of this arrangement, for he wanted the training of
Flossy and Eurie, and he meant to make teachers of the other two as soon
as possible.

Now it came to pass that an unlooked-for element came into all this
planning--none other than the boys themselves. They had ideas of their
own, and they belonged to that part of the world which is hard to
govern. They would have Miss Flossy Shipley to be their teacher, and
they would have no one else; she suited them exactly, and no one else
did.

"But, my dear boys," Dr. Dennis said, "Miss Shipley is new to the work
of teaching; she is but a learner herself; she feels that her place is
in the Bible-class, so that she may acquire the best ways of presenting
lessons."

"Did she say she wouldn't teach us?" queried Rich. Johnson, with his
keen eyes fixed on the doctor's face.

What could that embarrassed but truthful man do but slowly shake his
head, and say, hesitatingly:

"No, she didn't say that; but I advised her to join a Bible-class for
awhile."

"Then we want her," Rich. said, stoutly. "Don't we, boys? She just suits
us, Dr. Dennis; and she is the first one we ever had that we cared a
snap for. We had just about made up our minds to quit it; but, on the
whole, if we can have her we will give it another trial."

This strange sentence was uttered in a most matter-of-fact business way,
and the perplexed doctor, quite unused to dealing with that class of
brain and manners, was compelled to beat a retreat, and come to Flossy
with his novel report. A gleam of satisfaction, not to say triumph,
lighted up her pretty face, and aglow with smiles and blushes, she made
her way with alacrity to her chosen class. Teachers and scholars
thoroughly suited with each other; surely they could do some work during
that hour that would tell on the future. Meantime, the superintendent
was having his perplexities over in another corner of the room. He came
to Dr. Dennis at last for advice.

"Miss Hart is absent to-day; her class is almost impossible to supply;
no one is willing to try the little midgets."

"Miss Hart," Dr. Dennis repeated, thoughtfully; "the primary class, eh;
it is hard to manage; and yet, with all the sub-teachers present, one
would think it might be done."

"They are not all present," Mr. Stuart said. "They never are."

Dr. Dennis ignored this remark.

"I'll tell you what to do," he said, with a sudden lighting up of his
thoughtful face. "Get Miss Wilbur to go in there; she is equal to the
emergency, or I am much mistaken."

Mr. Stuart started in unqualified astonishment.

"I thought," he said, recovering his voice, "that you seriously objected
to her as a teacher in Sabbath-school?"

"I have changed my mind," Dr. Dennis said, with a happy smile, "or, the
Lord has changed her heart. Ask her to take the class."

So two of our girls found work.

Another thing occurred to make that Sabbath a memorable one. The evening
was especially lovely, and, there happening to be no other attraction,
a much larger number than usual of the First Church people got out to
the second service. Our girls were all present, and, what was unusual,
other representatives from their families were with them.

Also, Col. Baker had obliged himself to endure the infliction of another
sermon from Dr. Dennis, in order that he might have the pleasure of a
walk home in the glorious moonlight with Miss Flossy.

The sermon was one of special solemnity and power. The pastor's recent
communion with new-born souls had quickened his own heart and increased
the longing desire for the coming of the Spirit of God into their midst.
At the sermon's close, he took what, for the First Church, was a very
wide and startling departure from the beaten track. After a tender
personal appeal, especially addressed to the young people of his flock,
he said:

"Now, impelled by what I cannot but feel is the voice of the Lord Jesus,
by his Spirit, I want to ask if there are any present who feel so much
of a desire to be numbered with the Lord's friends, that they are
willing to ask us to pray for them, to the end that they may be found
of him. Is there one in this audience who, by rising and standing for
but a moment, will thus simply and quietly indicate to us such a desire
and willingness?"

Who ever heard of the First Church pastor doing so strange a thing? His
people had voted for festivals, and concerts, and lectures, and picnics,
and entertainments of all sorts and shades. They had taken rising votes,
and they had voted by raising the hand; they had made speeches, many of
them, on the questions to be presented; they had added their voice to
the pastor's explanations; they had urged the wisdom and the propriety
of the question presented; they had said they earnestly hoped the matter
would meet careful attention; and no one in the church had thought such
proceedings strange. But to ask people to rise in their seats, and thus
signify that they were thinking of the question of eternal life, and
home, and peace, and unutterable blessedness--what innovation was this?

Much rustling and coughing took place; then solemn silence prevailed.
Not a deacon there, or officer of any sort, had the least idea of
audibly hoping that the pastor's words would receive thoughtful
attention; not a person arose; the silence was felt to be embarrassing
and oppressive to the last degree.

Dr. Dennis relieved them at last by reading the closing hymn. During the
reading, when startled thoughts became sufficiently composed to flow in
their accustomed channels, many, almost unconsciously to themselves,
prepared speeches which they meant to utter the moment their lips were
unsealed by the pronouncing of the benediction.

"A very strange thing to do."

"What could Dr. Dennis be thinking of?"

"A most unwise effort to force the private lives of people before the
public."

"An unfortunate attempt to get up an excitement."

"Well meant, but most ill-timed and mistaken zeal, which would have a
reaction that would do harm."

These and a dozen other mental comments that roved through people's
brains, while they were supposed to be joining in the hymn of praise,
were suddenly cut short by the sound of Dr. Dennis' voice again--not in
benediction, as surely they had a right to expect by this time, but with
another appeal.

"I am still of the impression that there are those present who are doing
violence to their convictions of right, and to good judgment, by not
responding to my invitation. Let us remember to pray for all such. Now,
I want to ask if there are any in this congregation who have lately
proved the truth of the doctrine that there is a Saviour from sin, and a
peace that the world cannot give. If there are those present, who have
decided this question recently, will they rise for a moment, thus
testifying to the truth of the words which have been spoken this
evening, and thus witnessing that they have chosen the Lord Jesus for
their portion?"

Another sensation! Dr. Dennis must have taken leave of his senses! This
was more embarrassing than the last. The wise ones were sure that there
had been no conversions in a long time. So far as they knew and
believed, entirely other thoughts were occupying the minds of the
people.

Then, into the midst of this commotion of thought, there stole that
solemn hush, almost of heart-beatings, which betokens a new revelation,
that astonishes and thrills and solemnizes.

There were persons standing. Ladies! One--two--three. Yes, one in the
gallery. There were four of them! Who were they? Why, that little,
volatile Flossy Shipley was one! How strange! And that girl in the
gallery was the teacher at one of the Ward schools. It had been rumored
that she was an infidel!

Who in the world was that beside Judge Erskine? It couldn't be his
daughter! Yet it certainly was. And behold, in the doctor's pew stood
Eurie, the young lady who was so free and careless in her manners and
address, that, were it not for the fact that she was the doctor's
daughter, her very respectability would have stood a chance of being
questioned!

As it was, there were mothers in the church who were quite willing that
their daughters should have as little to do with her as possible. Yet,
to-night their daughters sat beside them, unable to rise, in any way to
testify to the truth of the religion of Jesus Christ; and Eurie
Mitchell, with grave, earnest face, in which decision and determination
were plainly written, stood up to testify that the Lord was true to his
promises.

Gradually there dawned upon the minds of many who knew these girls, the
remembrance that they had been together to that great Sunday-school
meeting at Chautauqua. How foolish the scheme had seemed to them when
they heard of it; how sneeringly they had commented on the absurdity of
such supposed representatives from the Sunday-school world.

Surely this seeming folly had been the power of God, and the wisdom of
God. There were those in the first church, as, indeed, there are many in
every church of Christ, who rejoiced with all their souls at the sound
of this good news.

There was another thing that occurred that night over which the angels,
at least, rejoiced. There was another witness. He was only a poor young
fellow, a day laborer in one of the machine shops, a new-comer to the
city. He knew almost nobody in that great church where he had chanced to
be a worshipper, and, literally no one knew him.

When the invitation was first given, he had shrunken from it. Satan,
with ever-ready skill, and with that consummate wisdom which makes him
as eager after the common day laborers as he is among the wealthy and
influential, had whispered to him that the pastor did not mean such as
he; no one knew him, his influence would be nothing. This church was too
large and too grand, and it was not meant that he should make himself so
conspicuous as to stand alone in that great audience-room, and testify
that the Lord Jesus had called him.

So he sat still; but as one and another of those young ladies arose
quietly, with true dignity and sweet composure testifying to their love
for the Lord, John Warden's earnest soul was moved to shame at his own
shrinking, and from his obscure seat, back under the gallery, he rose
up, and Satan, foiled that time, shrunk away.

As for our girls, they held no parley with their consciences, or with
the tempter; they did not even think of it. On the contrary, they were
glad, every one, that the way was made so plain and so easy to them.
Each of them had friends whom they especially desired to have know of
the recent and great change that had come to their lives. With some of
these friends they shrank unaccountably from talking about this matter.
With others of them they did not understand how to made the matter
plain.

But here it was explained for them, so plainly, so simply, that it
seemed that every one must understand, and their own future
determination as to life was carefully explained for them. There was
nothing to do but to rise up, and, by that simple act, subscribe their
names to the explanation--so making it theirs.

I declare to you that the thought of its being a cross to do so did not
once occur to them. Neither did the thought that they were occupying a
conspicuous position affect them. They were used to conspicuous
positions; they had been twice as prominent in that very church when
other subjects than religion had been under consideration.

At a certain festival, years before, they had every one taken part in a
musical entertainment that brought them most conspicuously before an
audience three times the size of the evening congregation. So you see
they were used to it.

And, as for the fancy that it becomes a more conspicuous and unladylike
matter to stand up for the Lord Jesus Christ, than it does to stand up
for anything else under the sun; Satan was much too wise, and knew his
material entirely too well, to suggest any such absurdity to them.

Flossy had been the only one of their number in the least likely to be
swayed by such arguments. But Flossy had set herself with earnest soul
and solemn purpose to follow the light wherever it should shine, without
allowing her timid heart time for questioning, and the father of all
evil finds such people exceedingly hard to manage.

"How do you do," said Dr. Dennis to John Warden, two minutes after the
benediction was fully pronounced. "I was very glad to see you to-night.
I am not sure that I have ever met you? No? I thought so; a stranger?
Well, we welcome you. Where do you board?"

And a certain black book came promptly out of the doctor's pocket. John
Warden's name, and street, and number, and business were written
therein, and John Warden felt for the first time in his life as though
he had a Christian brother in that great city, and a name and a place
with the people of God.

Another surprise a waited him. Marion and Eurie were right behind him.
Marion came up boldly and held out her hand:

"We seem to have started on the road together," she said. "We ought to
shake hands, and wish each other a safe journey."

Then she and Eurie and John Warden shook each other heartily by the
hand; and Flossy, standing watching, led by this bolder spirit into that
which would not have occurred to her to do, slipped from her place
beside Col. Baker, and, holding her lavender kidded little hand out to
his broad brown palm, said, with a grace and a sweetness that belonged
to neither of the others: "I am one of them." Whereupon John Warden was
not sure that he had not shaken hands with an angel.

CHAPTER X.

THE RAINY EVENING.

A COOL, rainy evening, one of those sudden and sharp reminders of autumn
that in our variable climate come to us in the midst of summer. The
heavy clouds had made the day shut down early, and the rain was so
persistent that it was useless to plan walks or rides, or entertainments
of that nature. Also it was an evening when none but those who are
habitual callers at special homes are expected.

One of these was Col. Baker. The idea of being detained by rain from
spending the evening with Flossy Shipley did not occur to him; on the
contrary, he rejoiced over the prospect of a long and uninterrupted
talk. The more indifferent Flossy grew to these long talks the more
eager was Col. Baker to enjoy them. The further she slipped away from
him, the more eagerly he followed after. Perhaps that is human nature;
at least it was Col. Baker's nature.

In some of his plans he was disappointed. Mrs. Shipley was gone for a
three days' visit to a neighboring city, and Flossy was snugly settled
in the back parlor entertaining her father.

"Show him right in here," directed her father, as soon as Col. Baker was
announced. Then to Flossy: "Now we can have a game at cards as soon as
Charlie comes in. Where is he?"

Rainy evenings, when four people could be secured sufficiently
disengaged to join in his favorite amusement, was the special delight of
Mr. Shipley. So behold them, half an hour after, deep in a game of
cards, Col. Baker accepting the situation with as good a grace as he
could assume, notwithstanding the fact that playing cards, simply for
amusement, in that quiet way in a back parlor, was a good deal of a bore
to him; but it would be bad policy to tell Mr. Shipley so. Their game
was interrupted by a ring of the door-bell.

"Oh, dear!" said Mr. Shipley, "I hope that is no nuisance on business.
One would think nothing but business would call people out on such a
disagreeable night."

"As, for instance, myself," Col. Baker said, laughingly.

"Oh, you. Of course, special friends are an exception."

And Col. Baker was well pleased to be ranked among the exceptions.
Meantime the ringer was heralded.

"It is Dr. Dennis, sir. Shall I show him in here?"

"I suppose so," Mr. Shipley said, gloomily, as one not well pleased; and
he added, in under tone, "What on earth can the man want?"

Meantime Col. Baker, with a sudden dexterous move, unceremoniously swept
the whole pack of cards out of sight under a paper by his side.

It so happened that Dr. Dennis' call was purely one of business; some
item connected with the financial portion of the church, which Dr.
Dennis desired to report in a special sermon that was being prepared.

Mr. Shipley, although he was so rarely an attendant at church, and made
no secret of his indifference to the whole subject of personal religion,
was yet a power in the financial world, and as such recognized and
deferred to by the First Church.

Dr. Dennis was in haste, and beyond a specially cordial greeting for
Flossy, and an expression of satisfaction at her success with the class
the previous Sabbath, he had no more to say, and Mr. Shipley soon had
the pleasure of bowing him out, rejoicing in his heart, as he did so,
that the clergyman was so prompt a man.

"He would have made a capital business man," he said, returning to his
seat. "I never come in contact with him that I don't notice a sort of
executive ability about him that makes me think what a success he might
have been."

There was no one to ask whether that remark meant that he was at present
supposed to be a failure. There was another subject which presently
engrossed several of them.

"Now be so kind as to give an account of yourself," Charlie Shipley
said, addressing Col. Baker. "What on earth did you mean by making a
muddle of our game in that way? I was in a fair way for winning. I
suppose you won't own that that was your object."

Col. Baker laughed.

"My object was a purely benevolent one. I had a desire to shield your
sister from the woebegone lecture she would have been sure to receive on
the sinfulness of her course. If he had found her playing cards, what
would have been the result?"

Mr. Shipley was the first to make answer, in a somewhat testy tone:

"Your generosity was uncalled for, Colonel. My daughter, when she is in
her father's house, is answerable to him, and not to Dr. Dennis, or any
other divine."

"I don't in the least understand what you are talking about," said
mystified Flossy. "Of what interest could it have been to Dr. Dennis
what I am doing; and why should he have delivered a lecture?"

Col. Baker and Charlie Shipley exchanged amused glances, and the former
quoted, significantly:

"Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." Then he added, as
Flossy still waited with questioning gaze: "Why, Miss Flossy, of course
you know that the clergy think cards are synonyms for the deadly sin,
and that to hold one in one's hand is equivalent to being poisoned, body
and soul?"

"I am sure I did not know it. Why, I knew, of course, that gambling
houses were not proper; but what is the harm in a game of cards? What
can Dr. Dennis see, for instance, in our playing together here in this
room, and simply for amusement?"

Col. Baker shrugged his handsome shoulders. That shrug meant a great
deal, accomplished a great deal. It was nearly certain to silence a
timid opposer; there was something so expressively sarcastic about it;
it hid so much one felt sure Col. Baker _might say_ if he deemed it
prudent or worth while. It had often silenced Flossy into a conscious
little laugh. To-night she was in earnest; she paid no attention to the
shrug, but waited, questioningly, for her answer, and as it was her
turn to play next, it seemed necessary to answer her if one wanted the
game to go on.

"I am sure I don't know," Col. Baker said, at last. "I have very little
idea what he would consider the harm; I am not sure that _he_ would be
able to tell. It is probably a narrow, strait-laced way that the cloth
have of looking at this question, in common with all other questions,
save prayer-meetings and almsgiving. Their lives are very much narrowed
down, Miss Flossy."

Flossy was entirely unsatisfied. She had a higher opinion of Dr. Dennis'
"breadth" than she had of Col. Baker's; she thought his life had a very
much higher range; she was very much puzzled and annoyed. Her father
came into the conflict:

"Come, come, Flossy, how long are you going to keep us waiting? It is of
no particular consequence what Dr. Dennis thinks or does not think. He
has a right to his own opinions. It is a free country."

Ah, but it did make a tremendous difference to Flossy. She had accepted
Dr. Dennis as her pastor; she had determined to look to him for help
and guidance in this new and strange path on which her feet had so
lately entered.

She wondered if Col. Baker could be right. Was it possible that Dr.
Dennis disapproved of cards played at home in this quiet way! If he did,
why did he? And, another puzzling point, how did Col. Baker know it?
They two certainly did not come in contact, that they should understand
each other's ideas.

She went on with her card-playing, but she played very badly. More than
once Col. Baker rallied her with good-humored sarcasm, and her father
spoke impatiently. Flossy's interest in the game was gone; instead, her
heart was busy with this new idea. She went back to it again in one of
her pauses in the game.

"Col. Baker, don't you really know at all what arguments clergymen have
against card-playing for amusement?"

Again that expressive shrug; but it had lost its power over Flossy, and
its owner saw it, and made haste to answer her waiting eyes.

"I really am not familiar with their weapons of warfare; probably I
could not appreciate them if I were; I only know that the entire class
frown upon all such innocent devices for passing a rainy evening. But it
never struck me as strange, because the fact is, they frown equally on
all pastimes and entertainments of any sort; that is, a certain class
do--fanatics, I believe, is the name they are known by. They believe, as
nearly as I am capable of understanding their belief, that life should
be spent in psalm-singing and praying."

Whereupon Flossy called to mind the witty things she had heard, and the
merry laughs which had rung around her at Chautauqua, given by the most
intense of these fanatics; she even remembered that she had seen two of
the most celebrated in that direction playing with a party of young men
and boys on the croquet ground, and laughing most uproariously over
their defeat. It was all nonsense to try to compass her brain with such
an argument as that; she shook her head resolutely.

"They do no such thing; I know some of them very well; I don't know of
any people who have nicer times. How do you know these things, Col.
Baker?"

Col. Baker essayed to be serious:

"Miss Flossy," he said, leaning over and fixing his handsome eyes
impressively on her face, "is it possible you do not know that, as a
rule, clergymen set their faces like a flint against all amusements of
every sort? I do not mean that there are not exceptions, but I do mean
most assuredly that Dr. Dennis is not one of them. He is as rigid as it
is possible for mortal man to be.

"Herein is where the church does harm. In my own opinion, it is to blame
for the most, if not for all, of the excesses of the day; they are the
natural rebound of nerves that have been strained too tightly by the
over-tension of the church."

Surely this was a fine sentence. The Flossy of a few weeks ago would
have admired the smooth-sounding words and the exquisitely modulated
voice as it rolled them forth. How had the present Flossy been quickened
as to her sense of the fitness of things. She laughed mischievously. She
couldn't argue; she did not attempt it. All she said was, simply:

"Col. Baker, on your honor, as a gentleman of truth and veracity, do you
think the excesses of which you speak, occur, as a rule, in those whose
lives have been very tightly bound by the church, or by anything else,
save their own reckless fancies?"

Charlie Shipley laughed outright at this point. He always enjoyed a
sharp thing wherever heard, and without regard to whether he felt
himself thrust at or not.

"Baker, you are getting the worst of it," he said, gayly. "Sis, upon my
word, that two weeks in the woods has made you real keen in argument;
but you play abominably."

"There is no pleasure in the game now!" This the father said, throwing
down his cards somewhat testily. "Flossy, I hope you will not get to be
a girl of one idea--tied to the professional conscience. What is proper
for you could hardly be expected to be just the thing for Dr. Dennis;
and you have nothing to do, as I said before, with what he approves or
disapproves."

"But, father," Flossy said, speaking somewhat timidly, as she could not
help doing when she talked about these matters to her father, "if we
call clergymen our spiritual guides, and look up to them to set examples
for us to follow, what is the use of the example if we don't follow it
at all, but conclude they are simply doing things for their own
benefit?"

"I never call them my spiritual guides, and I have not the least desire
to have my daughter do so. I consider myself capable of guiding my own
family, especially my own children, without any help."

This was said in Mr. Shipley's stiffest tone. He was evidently very much
tried with this interruption to his evening's entertainment. Whatever
might be said of the others, he was certainly very fond of cards. He,
however, threw down the remaining ones, declaring that the spirit of the
game was gone.

"Merged into a theological discussion," Charlie said, with a half laugh,
half sneer; "and of all the people to indulge in one, this particular
circle would be supposed to be the last."

"Well, I am certainly very sorry that I was the innocent cause of such
an upheaval," Col. Baker said, in the half serious, half mocking, tone
that was becoming especially trying to Flossy. "It seems that I
unwittingly burst a bombshell when I overturned those cards. I hadn't
an idea of it. Miss Flossy, what can I do to atone for making you so
uneasy? I assure you it was really pure benevolence on my part. What can
I do to prove it?"

"Nothing," Flossy said, smiling pleasantly. She was very much obliged.
He had awakened thought about a matter that had never before occurred to
her. She began to think there were a good many things in her life that
had not been given very much thought. She meant to look into this thing,
and understand it if she could. Indeed, that was what she wanted of all
things to do.

Nothing could be simpler and sweeter, and nothing could be more unlike
the Flossy of Col. Baker's former acquaintance.

"I shouldn't wonder a bit if you had roused a hornet's nest about your
ears," Charlie Shipley said to his friend. "Now I tell you, you may not
believe it, but my little sister is just exactly the stuff out of which
they made martyrs in those unenlightened days when anybody thought there
was enough truth in anything to take the trouble to suffer for it. She
can be made by skillful handling into a very queen of martyrs, and if
you fall in the ruins, it will be your own fault."

But he did not say this until Flossy had suddenly and unceremoniously
excused herself, and the two gentlemen were alone over their cigars.

"Confound that Chautauqua scheme!" Col. Baker said, kicking an innocent
hassock half across the room with his indignant foot. "That is where all
these new ideas started. I wish there was a law against fanaticism.
Those young women of strong mind and disagreeable manners are getting a
most uncomfortable influence over her, too. If I were you, Charlie, I
would try to put an end to that intimacy."

Charlie whistled softly.

"Which do you mean?" he asked at last. "The Erskine girl, or the Wilbur
one? I tell you, Baker, with all the years of your acquaintance, you
don't know that little Flossy as well as you think you do. Let me tell
you, my man, there is something about her, or in her, that is capable of
development, and that is being developed (or I am mistaken), that will
make her the leader, in a quiet way, of a dozen decided and outspoken
girls like those two, and of several men like yourself besides, if she
chooses to lead you."

"Well, confound the development then! I liked her better as she was
before."

"More congenial, I admit; at least I should think so; but not half so
interesting to watch. I have real good times now. I am continually
wondering what she will do next."

CHAPTER XI.

THE NEXT THING.

WHAT she did next that night was to sit with her elbows in her lap, and
her chin resting on her hands, and stare into vacancy for half an hour.
She was very much bewildered. Col. Baker had awakened a train of thought
that would never slumber again. He need not hope for such a thing. Her
brother Charlie saw deeper into her nature than she did herself. She was
tenacious of an idea; she had grasped at this one, which, of itself,
would perhaps never have occurred to her.

Hitherto she had played at cards as she had played on the piano or
worked at her worsted cats and dogs, or frittered away an evening in
the smallest of small talk, or done a hundred other things, without
thought of results, without so much as realizing that there were such
things as results connected with such trifling commonplaces.

At least, so far as the matter of cards was concerned, she would never
do so again. Her quiet had been disturbed. The process of reasoning by
which she found herself disturbed was very simple. She had discovered,
as if by accident, that her pastor; as she loved to call Dr. Dennis,
lingering on the word, now that it had such a new meaning for her,
disapproved of card-playing, not only for himself, but for her; at least
that Col. Baker so supposed.

Now there must be some foundation for this belief of his. Either there
was something in the nature of the game which Col. Baker recognized, and
which she did not, that made him understand, as by instinct, that it
would be disapproved by Dr. Dennis, or else he had heard him so express
himself, or else he was totally mistaken, and was misrepresenting that
gentleman's character.

She thought all this over as she sat staring into space, and she went
one step further--she meant to discover which of these three statements
was correct. If Dr. Dennis thought it wrong to play cards, then he must
have reasons for so thinking. She accepted that at once as a necessity
to the man. They must also have been carefully weighed reasons, else he
would not have given them a place in his creed. This also was a
necessity to a nature like his.

Clearly there was something here for her to study; but how to set about
it? Over this she puzzled a good deal; she did not like to go directly
to Dr. Dennis and ask for herself; she did not know how to set to work
to discover for herself the truth; she could pray for light, that to be
sure; but having brought her common sense with her into religious
matters, she no more expected light to blaze upon her at the moment of
praying for it, than she expected the sun to burst into the room despite
the closing of blinds and dropping of curtain, merely because she prayed
that it might shine.

Clearly if she wanted the sun, it was her part to open blinds and draw
back curtains; clearly if she wanted mental light, it was her part to
use the means that God had placed at her disposal. Thus much she
realized. But not being a self-reliant girl, it resulted in her saying
to Eurie Mitchell when she slipped in the next evening to spend an hour:

"I wish we girls could get together somewhere this evening; I have
something to talk over that puzzles me a great deal."

You are to understand that the expression, "we girls," meant the four
who had lived Chautauqua together; from henceforth and forever "we
girls" who went through the varied experiences of life together that
were crowded into those two weeks, would be separated from all other
girls, and their intercourse would necessarily be different from any
other friendships, colored always with that which they had lived
together under the trees.

"Well," said Eurie, quick, as usual, to carry out what another only
suggested, "I'm sure that is easily managed. We can call for Ruth, and
go around to Marion's den; she is always in, and she never has any
company."

"But Ruth nearly always has," objected Flossy, who had an instant
vision of herself among the fashionable callers in the Erskine parlor,
unable to get away without absolute rudeness.

"I'll risk Ruth if she happens to want to come with us," Eurie said,
nodding her head sagely. "She will dispose of her callers in some way;
strangle them, or what is easier and safer, simply ignore their
existence and beg to be excused. Ruth is equal to any amount of
well-bred rudeness; all that is necessary is the desire to perform a
certain action, and she will do it."

This prophecy of Eurie's proved to be the case. Nellis Mitchell was
called into service to see the girls safely over to the Erskine mansion,
where they found two gentlemen calling on Ruth and her father. No sooner
did she hear of their desire to be together, than, feeling instant
sympathy with it, she said, "I'll go in five minutes." Then they heard
her quiet voice in the parlor:

"Father, will you and our friends excuse me for the remainder of the
evening, and will you enjoy my part of the call and yours too? I have
just had a summons elsewhere that demands attention."

"Isn't that perfect in its propriety, besides bringing things to the
exact point where she wants them to be?" whispered Eurie to Flossy as
they waited in the hall. "Oh, it takes Ruth to manage."

"I wonder," said Flossy, with her far-away look, and half-distressed,
wholly-perplexed curve of the lip--"I wonder if it is strictly _true_;
that is what troubles me a good deal."

Oh, Dr. Hurlbut your address to the children that summer day under the
trees was the germ of this shoot of sensitiveness for the strict truth,
that shall bloom into conscientious fruit.

It was by this process that they were all together in Marion's den, as
Eurie called her stuffed and uninviting little room. Never was mortal
more glad to be interrupted than she, as she unceremoniously tossed
aside school-books and papers, and made room for them around the table.

"You are a blessed trio," she said, exultantly. "What good angel put it
into your hearts to come to me just now and here? I am in the dismals;
have been down all day in the depths of swamp-land, feeling as if I
hadn't a friend on earth, and didn't want one; and here you are, you
blessed three."

"But we didn't come for fun or to comfort you, or anything of that
sort," explained Flossy, earnestly, true to the purpose that had started
her. "We came to talk something over."

"I don't doubt it. Talk it over then by all means. I'll talk at it with
all my heart. We generally do talk something over, I have observed, when
we get together; at least we do of late years. Which one wants to talk?"

Thus introduced, Flossy explained the nature of her perplexities; her
occupation the evening before; the interruption from Dr. Dennis; the
sweeping action of Col. Baker, and the consequent talk.

"Now do you suppose that is true?" she said, suddenly breaking off at
the point where Col. Baker had assured her that all clergymen looked
with utter disfavor on cards.

Marion glanced from one to another of the faces before her with an
amused air; none of them spoke.

"It is rather queer," she said, at last, "that I have to be authority,
or that I seem to be the only one posted, when I have but just emerged
from a state of unbelief in the whole subject. But I tell you truly, my
blessed little innocent, Col. Baker is well posted; not only the clergy,
but he will find a large class of the most enlightened Christians, look
with disapproval on the whole thing in all its variations."

"Why do they?" This from Flossy, with a perplexed and troubled tone.

"Well," said Marion, "now that question is more easily asked than
answered. It requires an argument."

"An argument is just what I want; I like to have things explained.
Before that, though, one thing that puzzles me is how should Col. Baker
be so familiar with the views of clergymen?"

"That is a curious fact, my mousie; you will find it, I fancy, in all
sorts of strange places. People who are not Christians seem to have an
intuitive perception of the fitness of things. It is like dancing and
theatre-going, and a dozen other questions. It is very unusual to meet
people who do not sneer at Christians for upholding such amusements;
they seem to realize an incongruity between them and the Christian
profession. It was just as plain to me, I know, and I have sneered many
a time over card-playing Christians, and here you are, dear little
Flossy, among them, just for the purpose of teaching me not to judge."

Ruth, for the first time, took up the subject:

"If your statement is true, Marion, how is it that so many professed
Christians indulge in these very things?"

"Precisely the question that I just asked myself while I was talking. By
what means they become destitute of that keen insight into consistencies
and inconsistencies, the moment they enter the lists as Christian
people, is more than I can understand, unless it is because they decide
to succumb to the necessity of doing as other people do, and let any
special thinking alone as inconvenient and unprofitable. I don't know
how it is; only you watch this question and think about it, and you will
discover that just so surely as you come in contact with any who are
active and alert in Christian work, whose religion you respect as
amounting to something, you are almost sure to see them avoiding all
these amusements. Who ever heard of a minister being asked to spend an
evening in social card-playing! I presume that even Col. Baker himself
knows that that would be improper, and he would be the first to sneer."

"Of course," Ruth said, "ministers were expected to be examples for
other people to follow."

"Well, then," Flossy said, her perplexity in no way lessened, "ought we
not to follow?"

Whereupon Marion clapped her hands.

"Little Flossy among the logicians!" she said. "That is the point, Ruth
Erskine. If the example is for us to follow, why don't we follow? Now,
what do you honestly think about this question yourself?"

"Why," said Ruth, hesitatingly, "I have always played cards, in select
circles, being careful, of course, with whom I played; just as I am
careful with whom I associate, and, contrary to your supposition, I have
always supposed those people who frowned on such amusements to be a set
of narrow-minded fanatics. And I didn't know that Christian people did
frown on such amusements; though, to be sure, now that I think of it,
there are certain ones who never come to card-parties nor
dancing-parties. I guess the difficulty is that I have never thought
anything about it."

Marion was looking sober.

"The fact is," she said, gravely, "that with all my loneliness and
poverty and general forlornness, I have had a different bringing up from
any of you. My father did not believe in any of these things."

"And he was a Christian man," Flossy said, quickly. "Then he must have
had a reason for his belief. That is what I want to get at. What was
it?"

"He found it in an old book," said Marion, looking at her, brightly,
through shining eyes. "He found most of his knowledge and his hope and
joy in that same book. The Bible was almost the only book he had, and he
made much of that."

"And yet you hated the Bible!" Eurie said this almost involuntarily,
with a surprised tone.

"I hated the way in which people lived it, so different from my father's
way. I don't think I ever really discarded the book itself. But I was a
fool; I don't mind owning that."

Flossy brought them back to the subject.

"But about this question," she said. "The Bible was just where I went
for help, but I didn't find it; I looked in the Concordance for cards
and for amusements, and for every word which I could think of, that
would cover it, but I couldn't find anything."

Marion laughed again. This little morsel's ignorance of the Bible was to
this girl, who had been an avowed infidel for more than a dozen years,
something very strange.

"The Bible is a big book, darling," she said, still laughing. "But,
after all, I fancy you will find something about the principle that
governs cards, even if you cannot find the word."

Meantime Ruth had been for some minutes regarding Eurie's grave face and
attentive eyes, with no small astonishment in her gaze. At this point
she interrupted:

"Eurie Mitchell, what can be the matter with you? were you ever known to
be so quiet? I haven't heard you speak on this theme, or any other,
since you came into the room; yet you look as though you had some
ideas, if you chose to advance them. Where do you stand on this card
question?"

"We never play cards at home," Eurie said, quickly, "and we never go
where we know they are to be played."

Flossy turned upon her the most surprised eyes. Dr. Mitchell's family
was the most decidedly unconventional and free and easy of any
represented there. Flossy had supposed that they, of all others, would
make cards a daily pastime.

"Why not?" she asked, briefly and earnestly, as one eager to learn.

"It is on Nell's account," Eurie said, still speaking very gravely.
"Nell has but one fault, and that is card-playing; he is just
passionately fond of it; he is tempted everywhere. Father says
Grandfather Mitchell was just so, and Nell inherits the taste. It is a
great temptation to him, and we do not like to foster it at home."

"But home card-playing is so different; that isn't gambling." This from
Flossy, questioningly.

"Nell learned to play at home," Eurie said, quickly. "That is, he
learned at Grandfather Mitchell's when he was a little boy. We have no
means of knowing whether he would have been led into gambling but for
that early education. I know that Robbie shall never learn if we can
help it; we never mean to allow him to go where any sort of cards are
played, so long as we have him under control."

All this was utterly new to Flossy.

"Then, if your little Robbie should come, with other children, to see
me, and I should teach them a game of cards to amuse them, I might be
doing you a positive injury," she said, thoughtfully.

"I certainly should so consider it," Eurie said, with quickness and with
feeling. "Girls, I speak vehemently on this subject always; having one
serious lesson at home makes people think."

"It is a question whether we have any right to indulge in an amusement
that has the power to lead people astray," Ruth said, grave and
thoughtful, "especially when it is impossible to tell what boy may he
growing up under that influence to whom it will become a snare."

Marion added:

"Flossy, do you begin to see?"

"I see in every direction," Flossy said. "There is no telling when we
may be doing harm. But, now, let me be personal; I play with father a
great deal; he is an old man, and he has no special temptation,
certainly. I have heard him say he never played for anything of more
value than a pin in his life. What harm can there possibly be in my
spending an evening with him in such an amusement, if it rests and
entertains him?"

"Imagine some of your Sunday-school boys accepting your invitation to
call on you, and finding you playing a social game with your father;
then imagine them quoting you in support of their game at the billiard
saloon that same evening a little later," Marion said, quickly. "You
see, my little Flossy, we don't live in nutshells or sealed cans; we are
at all times liable to be broken in upon by people whom we may influence
and whom we may harm. I confess I don't want to do anything at home that
will have to be pushed out of sight in haste and confusion because some
one happens to come in. I want to be honest, even in my play."

Over this Flossy looked absolutely aghast. Those boys of hers, they
were getting a strong hold upon her already; she longed to lead them.
Was it possible that by her very amusements she might lead them astray!
Another point was, that Nellis Mitchell could never be invited to join
them in a game. She had invited him often, and she winced at the
thought. Did his sister think she had helped him into temptation?
Following these trains of thought, she was led into another, over which
she thought aloud.

"And suppose any of them should ask me if I ever played cards! I should
have to say yes."

"Precisely," said Marion. "And don't you go to thinking that you can
ever hide behind that foolish little explanation, 'I play simply for
amusement; I think it is wrong to play for money.' It won't do: it takes
logical brains to see the difference, and some even of those _won't_ see
it; but they can readily see that, having plenty of money, of course you
have no temptation to play cards for it, and they see that with them it
is different."

CHAPTER XII.

SETTLING QUESTIONS.

"THERE is Bible for that doctrine too."

"Where?" Flossy asked, turning quickly to Marion.

"In this verse: 'If meat maketh my brother to offend, I will eat no meat
while the world stands.' Don't you see you never can know which brother
may be made to offend?"

"And it is even about so useful a thing as food," said Flossy, looking
her amazement; she had never heard that verse before in her life. "About
just that thing; and nothing so really unnecessary to a complete life as
card-playing may be."

"Col. Baker sneers at the inconsistency of people who have nothing to do
with cards, and who play croquet," Eurie said this with cheeks a little
heightened in color; she had come in contact with Col. Baker on this
very question.

Ruth looked up quickly from the paper on which she was scribbling.

"I think myself," she said, "that if it should seem necessary to me to
give up cards entirely, consistency would oblige me to include croquet,
and all other games of that sort."

"I shouldn't feel obliged to do any such thing," Marion said, promptly;
"at least, not until I had become convinced that people played croquet
late into the night, in rooms smelling of tobacco and liquor, and were
tempted to drink freely of the latter, and pawn their coats, if
necessary, to get money enough to carry out the game. You see, there is
a difference."

"Yet people can gamble in playing croquet," Eurie said, thoughtfully.

"Oh, yes, and people can gamble with pins, or in tossing up pennies. The
point is, they are not in the habit of doing it; and pins suggest no
such thing to people in general; neither do croquet balls; while the
fact remains that the ordinary use of cards, is to gamble with them; and
comparatively few of those who use them habitually confine themselves to
quiet home games. People are in danger of making their brothers offend
by their use; we all know that."

"If that is true, then just that one verse from the Bible ought to
settle the whole question." There was no mistaking the quiet meaning in
Flossy's voice; it was as good as saying that the whole question _was_
settled for her. Marion regarded her with evident satisfaction; her
manner was all the more fascinating, because she was so entirely
unconscious that this way of looking at questions, rather than this firm
manner of settling questions, was not common, even among Christians.
"Can you show me the verse in your Bible?" she presently asked.

"I can do that same with the greatest pleasure," Marion said, bringing
forward a new and shining concordance. "I really meant to have a new
dress this fall; I say that, Ruthie, for your special comfort; but the
truth is, there was an army of Bible verses that I learned in my youth
trooping up to me, and I had such a desire to see the connection, and
find out what they were all about, that I was actually obliged to
sacrifice the dress and get a concordance. I have lots of comfort with
it. Here is the verse, Flossy."

Flossy drew the Bible toward her with a little sigh.

"I wish I knew an army of verses," she said. "Seems to me I don't know
any at all." Then she went to reading.

"I know verses enough," Eurie said, "but they seem to be in a great
muddle in my brain. I can't remember that any of them were ever
explained to me; and it isn't very often that I find a place where any
of them will fit in."

"They do fit in, though, and with astonishing closeness, you will find,
as you grow used to them. I have been amazed at that feature of the
Bible. Some of the verses that occur in the selections for parsing are
just wonderful; they seem aimed directly at me. What have you found,
Flossy?"

"Wonderful things," said Flossy, flushing and smiling.

"You are reading backward, aren't you? I know those verses; just you
let me read them, substituting the object about which we are talking,
and see how they will fit. You see, girls, this astonishing man, Paul by
name--do you happen to know his history?--more wonderful things happened
to him than to any other mortal I verily believe. Well, he was talking
about idols, and advising his Christian friends not to eat the food that
had been offered to idols; not that it would hurt them, but
because--well, you'll see the 'because' as I read. I'll just put in our
word, for an illustration, instead of meat. 'But cards commend us not to
God: for neither if we play are we the better; neither if we play not,
are we the worse. But take heed lest by any means this liberty of yours
become a stumbling-block to them that are weak; for if any man see thee
which hast knowledge, sit at cards, shall not the conscience of him
which is weak be emboldened to sit at cards also? And through thy
knowledge shall the weak brother perish for whom Christ died? But when
ye sin so against the brethren and wound their weak conscience, ye sin
against Christ. Wherefore if cards make my brother to offend, I will
play no more cards while the world standeth, lest I make my brother to
offend.' Doesn't that fit?"

"Let me look at that," said Eurie, suddenly, drawing the Bible to her.
"After all," she said, after a moment, "what right have you to
substitute the word cards? It is talking about another matter."

"Now, Eurie Mitchell, you are too bright to make such a remark as that!
If the Bible is for our help as well as for Paul's, we have surely the
right to substitute the noun that fits our present needs. We have no
idols nowadays; at least they are not made out of wood and stone; and
the logic of the question is as clear as sunlight. We have only to
understand that the matter of playing cards is a snare and a danger to
some people, and we see our duty clearly enough, because, how are we
ever to be sure that the very person who will be tempted is not within
the reach of our influence. What do you think, Flossy? Is the question
any clearer to you?"

"Why, yes," Flossy said, slowly, "that eighth verse settles it: 'For
meat commendeth us not to God, for neither if we eat are we the better,
neither if we eat not are we the worse.' It certainly can do no one any
harm if I let cards alone, and it is equally certain that it may do harm
if I play them. I should think my duty was clear."

"I wonder what Col. Baker will say to that duty?" queried Eurie,
thinking aloud rather than speaking to any one. "He is very much given
over to the amusement, if I am not mistaken."

Flossy raised her eyes and fixed them thoughtfully on Eurie's face,
while a flush spread all over her own pretty one. Was it possible that
she had helped to foster this taste in Col. Baker. How _many_ evenings
she had spent with him in this way. _Was_ he very much addicted to the
use of cards, she wondered; that is, outside of their own parlor? Eurie
seemed to know something about it.

"What makes you think so?" she asked, at last.

"Because I know so. He has a great deal to do with Nell's infatuation.
He was the very first one with whom Nell ever played for anything but
fun. Flossy Shipley, you surely know that he derives a good deal of his
income in that way?"

"I certainly did _not_ know it," Flossy said, with an increasing glow on
her cheeks. The glow was caused by wondering how far her own brother,
Charlie, had been led by this man.

"Girls," said Marion, concluding that a change of subject would be wise,
"wouldn't a Bible reading evening be nice?"

"What kind of an evening can that be?"

Marion laughed.

"Why, a reading together out of the Bible about a certain subject, or
subjects, that interested us, and about which we wanted to inform
ourselves? Like this, for instance. I presume there are dozens of texts
that bear on this very question. It would be nice to go over them
together and talk them up."

Flossy's eyes brightened.

"I would like that exceedingly," she said. "I need the help of you all.
I know so very little about the Bible. We have musical evenings, and
literary evenings; why not Bible evenings? Let's do it."

"Apropos of the subject in hand, before we take up a new one, what do
you think of this by way of illustration?" Ruth asked, as she threw down
on the table a daintily written epistle. There was an eager grasping
after it by this merry trio, and Eurie securing it, read aloud. It was
an invitation for the next evening to a select gathering of choice
spirits for the purpose of enjoying a social evening at cards.

"What do you propose to do with it?" Marion asked, as Eurie balanced the
note on her hand with an amused face; the illustration fitted so
remarkably into the talk.

"Decline it," Ruth said, briefly. And then added, as an after-thought,
"I never gave the subject any attention in my life. I am, perhaps, not
entirely convinced now, only I see as Flossy does, that I shall
certainly do no harm by declining; whereas it seems I may possibly do
some by accepting; therefore, of course, the way is clear."

She said it with the utmost composure, and it was evident that the idea
of such a course being disagreeable to her, or of her considering it a
cross to decline, had not occurred to her. She cared nothing at all
about these matters, and had only been involved in them as a sort of
necessity belonging to society. She was more than willing to be "counted
out."

As for Flossy, she drew a little sigh of envy. She would have given much
to have been constituted like Ruth Erskine. She knew that the same like
invitation would probably come to her, and she knew that she would
decline it; but, aside from loss of the pleasure and excitement of the
pretty toilet and the pleasant evening among her friends, she foresaw
long and wearisome discussions with Col. Baker, with Charlie, with her
father; sarcastic remarks from Kitty and her lover, and a long train of
annoyances. She dreaded them all; it was so easy to slip along with the
current; it was so hard to stem it and insist on going the other way.

As for Marion Wilbur, she envied them both; a chance for them to dash
out into a new channel and make some headway, not the everlasting
humdrum sameness that filled her life.

Flossy was fascinated with the Bible words, that were so new and fresh
to her.

"Those verses cover a great deal of ground," she said, slowly reading
them over again. "I can think of a good many things which we call right
enough, that, measured by that test, would have to be changed or given
up. But, Marion, you spoke of dancing and theatre-going. I can't quite
see what the verses have to do with either of those amusements; I mean
not as we, and the people in our set, have to do with such things. Do
you think every form of dancing is wicked?"

"What wholesale questions you ask, my morsel! And you ask them precisely
as though I had been made umpire and you must abide by my decisions,
whatever they are. Now, do you know I never believed in dancing? I had
some queer, perhaps old-fashioned, notions about it all my life. Even
before there was any such thing as a conscientious scruple about it, I
should not have danced if I had had a hundred chances to mingle in just
the set that you do; so, perhaps, I am not the one of whom to ask that
question."

"I should think you were just the one. If you have examined it, and know
why you think so, you can surely tell me, and give me a chance to see
whether I ought to think as you do or not."

"_I_ need posting, decidedly, on that question," Eurie said, throwing
off her earnestness and looking amused. "If there is anyone thing above
another that I do thoroughly enjoy, it is dancing; and I give you all
fair warning, I don't mean to be coaxed out of it very easily. I shall
fight hard for that bit of fun. Marion don't know anything about it, for
she never danced; but the rest of you know just what a delicious
exercise it is; and I don't believe, when it is indulged in reasonably,
and at proper places, there is any harm at all in it. If I am to give it
up, you will have to show me strong reasons why I should."

"All this fits right in with my idea," Marion said. "Nothing could be
more suitable for our first Bible reading. Let us take an evening for
it, and prepare ourselves as well as we can beforehand, and examine into
the Bible view of it. Eurie, you will be expected to be armed with all
the Scriptural arguments in its favor. I'll try for the other side. Now,
Ruth and Flossy, which side will you choose?"

"Neither," Ruth said, promptly. "I am interested in the subject, and
shall be glad to be informed as to what the Bible says about it, if any
of you are smart enough to find anything that will bear on the subject;
but I believe the Bible left that, as well as some other things, to our
common sense, and that each of us have to decide the matter for
ourselves."

"All right," said Marion, "we'll accept you on the non-committal side.
Only, remember you are to try to prove from the Bible that it has left
_us_ to decide this matter for ourselves."

"I shall take every side that I find," Flossy said. "What I want to know
is, the truth about things."

"Without regard as to whether the truth is so fortunate as to agree with
your opinion or not?" said Marion. "You will, probably, be quite as
likely to find the truth as any of us. Well, I like the plan; there is
work in it, and it will amount to something. When shall it be?"

"Next Friday," said Flossy.

"No," said Ruth; "Friday is the night of Mrs. Garland's lawn party."

"A dancing party," said Eurie. "Good! Let us come together on Thursday
evening. If there is a dancing party just ahead, it will make us all the
more zealous to prove our sides; I shall be, at least, for I want to go
to Mrs. Garland's."

CHAPTER XIII.

LOOKING FOR WORK.

DR. DENNIS had just gone into his study to make ready for the evening
prayer-meeting, when he heard his door-bell ring. He remembered with a
shade of anxiety that his daughter was not yet out of school, and that
his sister and housekeeper was not at home. It was more than likely that
he would be interrupted.

"What is it, Hannah?" he asked, as that person appeared at his door.

"It is Miss Erskine, sir. I told her that Miss Dennis was out of town,
and Miss Grace was at school, and she said it was of no consequence, she
wanted to see the minister himself. Will I tell her that you are
engaged?"

"No," said Dr. Dennis, promptly. The sensation was still very new, this
desire on the part of any of the name of Erskine to see him. His
preparation could afford to wait.

Two minutes more and Ruth was in the study. It was a place in which she
felt as nearly embarrassed as she ever approached to that feeling. She
had a specific purpose in calling, and words arranged wherewith to
commence her topic; but they fled from her as if she had been a school
girl instead of a finished young lady in society; and she answered the
Doctor's kind enquiries as to the health of her father and herself in an
absent and constrained manner. At last this good man concluded to help
her.

"Is there any thing special that I can do for you to-day?" he asked,
with a kindly interest in his tone, that suggested the feeling that he
was interested in her plans, whatever they were, and would be glad to
help.

"Yes," she said, surprised into frankness by his straightforward way of
doing things; "or, at least, I hope you can. Dr. Dennis, ought not every
Christian to be at work?"

"Our great Example said; 'I must work the works of him that sent me
while it is day.'"

"I know it; that very verse set me to thinking about it. That is what I
want help about. There is no work for me to do; at least, I can't find
any. I am doing just nothing at all, and I don't in the least know which
way to turn. I am not satisfied with this state of things; I can't
settle back to my books and my music as I did before I went away; I
don't enjoy them as I used to; I mean, they don't absorb me; they seem
to be of no earthly use to anyone but myself, and I don't feel
absolutely certain that they are of any use to me; anyway, they are not
Christian work."

"As to that, you are not to be too certain about it. Wonderful things
can be done with music; and when one is given a marked talent for it, as
I hear has been the case with you, it is not to be hidden in a napkin."

"I don't know what I can do with music, I am sure," Ruth said,
skeptically. "I suppose I must have a good deal of talent in that
direction; I have been told so ever since I can remember; but beyond
entertaining my friends, I see no other special use for it."

"Do you remember telling me about the songs which Mr. Bliss sang at
Chautauqua, and the effect on the audience?"

"Yes," said Ruth, speaking heartily, and her cheeks glowing at the
recollection "but he was wonderful!"

"The same work can be done in a smaller way," Dr. Dennis said, smiling.
"I hope to show you something of what you may do to help in that way
before another winter passes; but, in the meantime, mere entertainment
of friends is not a bad motive for keeping up one's music. Then there is
the uncertain future ever before us. What if you should be called upon
to teach music some day?"

A vision of herself toiling wearily from house to house in all weathers,
and at all hours of the day, as she had seen music teachers do, hovered
over Ruth Erskine's brain, and so utterly improbable and absurd did the
picture seem, when she imagined it as having any reference to her, that
she laughed outright.

"I don't believe I shall ever teach music," she said, positively.

"Perhaps not; and yet stranger things than that _have_ happened in this
changeful life."

"But, Dr. Dennis," she said, with sudden energy, and showing a touch of
annoyance at the turn which the talk was taking, "my trouble is not an
inability to employ my time; I do not belong to the class of young
ladies who are afflicted with _ennui_." And a sarcastic curve of her
handsome lip made Ruth look very like the Miss Erskine that Dr. Dennis
had always known. She despised people who had no resources within
themselves. "I can find plenty to do, and I enjoy doing it; but the
point is, I seem to be living only for myself, and that doesn't seem
right. I want Christian work."

To tell the truth Dr. Dennis was puzzled. There was so much work to do,
his hands and heart were always so full and running over, that it seemed
strange to him for anyone to come looking for Christian work; the world
was teeming with it.

On the other hand he confessed to himself that he was utterly
unaccustomed to hearing people ask for work; or, if the facts be told,
to having any one do any work.

Years ago he had tried to set the people of the First Church to work;
but they had stared at him and misunderstood him, and he confessed to
himself that he had given over trying to get work out of most of them.
While this experience was refreshing, it was new, and left him for the
moment bewildered.

"I understand you," he said, rallying. "There is plenty of Christian
work. Do you want to take a class in the Sunday-school? There is a
vacancy."

Ruth shook her head with decision.

"That is not at all my _forte_. I have no faculty for teaching children;
I am entirely unused to them, and have no special interest in them, and
no sort of idea how they are to be managed. Some people are specially
fitted for such work; I know I am not."

"Often we find our work much nearer home than we had planned," Dr.
Dennis said, regarding her with a thoughtful air. "How is it with your
father, Miss Erskine?"

"My father?" she repeated; and she could hardly have looked more
bewildered if her pastor had asked after the welfare of the man in the
moon.

"Are you trying to win him over to the Lord's side?"

Utter silence and surprise on Miss Erskine's part. At last she said:

"I hardly ever see my father; we are never alone except when we are on
our way to dinner, or to pay formal calls on very formal people. Then we
are always in a hurry. I cannot reach my father, Dr. Dennis; he is
immersed in business, and has no time nor heart for such matters. I
should not in the least know how to approach him if I had a chance; and,
indeed, I am sure I could do no good, for he would esteem it an
impertinence to be questioned by his daughter as to his thoughts on
these matters."

"Yet you have an earnest desire to see him a Christian?"

"Yes," she said, speaking slowly and hesitatingly; "of course I have
that. To be very frank, Dr. Dennis, it is a hopeless sort of desire; I
don't expect it in the least; my father is peculiarly unapproachable; I
know he considers himself sufficient unto himself, if you will allow the
expression. In thinking of him, I have felt that a great many years from
now, when he is old, and when business cares and responsibilities have
in a measure fallen off, and given him time to think of himself, he
might then feel his need of a Friend and be won; but I don't even hope
for it before that time."

"My dear friend, you have really no right to set a different time from
the one that your Master has set," her pastor said, earnestly. "Don't
you know that his time is always _now_? How can you be sure that he will
choose to give your father a long life, and leisure in old age to help
him to think? Isn't that a terrible risk?"

Ruth Erskine shook her decided head.

"I feel sure that my work is not in that direction," she said. "I could
not do it; you do not know my father as well as I do; he would never
allow me to approach him. The most I can hope to do will be to hold what
he calls my new views so far into the background that he will not
positively forbid them to me. He is the only person I think of whom I
stand absolutely in awe. Then I couldn't talk with him. His life is a
pure, spotless one, convincing by its very morality; so he thinks that
there is no need of a Saviour. I do pray for him; I mean to as long as
he and I live; but I know I can do nothing else; at least not for many a
year."

How was Dr. Dennis to set to work a lady who knew so much that she could
not work? This was the thought that puzzled him. But he knew how
difficult it was for people to work in channels marked out by others. So
he said, encouragingly:

"I can conceive of some of your difficulties in that direction. But you
have other friends who are not Christians?"

This being said inquiringly, Ruth, after a moment of hesitation,
answered it:

"I have one friend to whom I have tried to talk about this matter, but I
have had no success. He is very peculiar in his views and feelings. He
agrees to every thing that I say, and admits the wisdom and
reasonableness of it all, but he goes no further."

"There are a great many such people," Dr. Dennis said, with a quick
sigh. He met many of them himself. "They are the hardest class to reach.
Does your friend believe in the power of prayer? I have generally found
the safest and shortest way with such to be to use my influence in
inducing them to begin to pray. If they admit its power and its
reasonableness, it is such a very simple thing to do for a friend that
they can hardly refuse."

"I don't think he ever prays," Ruth said, "and I don't believe he would.
He would think it hypocritical. He says as much as that half the praying
must be mockery."

"Granting that to be the case, does he think he should therefore not
offer real prayer? That would be a sad state. Because I have many
hypocrites in my family whose words to me are mockery, therefore no one
must be a true friend."

"I know," said Ruth, interrupting. "But I don't know how to reach such
people. Perhaps he may be your work, Dr. Dennis, but I don't think he is
mine. I don't in the least know what to say to him. I refer to Mr.
Wayne."

"I know him," Dr. Dennis said, "but he is not inclined to talk with me.
I have not the intimacy with him that would lead him to be familiar. I
should be very certain, if I were you, that my work did not lie in that
direction before I turned from it."

"I am certain," Ruth said, with a little laugh.

"I don't know how to talk to such people. I should feel sure of doing
more harm than good."

"But, my dear Miss Erskine, I beg your pardon for the reminder, but
since you are thrown much into his society, will it not be necessary for
you, as a Christian, to talk more or less about this matter? Should not
your talk be shaped in such a way as to influence him if you can?"

"I don't think I understand," Ruth said, doubtfully. "Do you mean that
people should talk about religion all the time they are together?"

During this question Dr. Dennis had drawn his Bible toward him and been
turning over the leaves.

"Just let me read you a word from the Guide-book on this subject: 'Only
let your conversation be as becometh the Gospel of Christ.' 'As he which
hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation.'
'Seeing, then, that all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of
person ought ye to be, in all holy conversation and godliness?' What
should you conclude as to Christian duty in the matter of daily
conversation?"

Ruth made no answer to this question, but sat with earnest, thoughtful
look fixed on her pastor's face.

"Who follows that pattern?" she asked, at last.

"My dear friend, is not our concern rather to decide whether you and I
shall try to do it in the future?"

Someway this brought the talk to a sudden lull. Ruth seemed to have no
more to say.

"There is another way of work that I have been intending to suggest to
some of you young ladies," Dr. Dennis said, after a thoughtful silence.
"It is something very much neglected in our church--that is the social
question. Do you know we have many members who complain that they are
never called on, never spoken with, never noticed in any way?"

"I don't know anything about the members," Ruth said. "I don't think I
have a personal acquaintance with twenty of them--a calling
acquaintance, I mean."

"That is the case with a great many, and it is a state of things that
should not exist. The family ought to know each other. I begin to see
your work clearer; it is the young ladies, to a large extent, who must
remedy this evil. Suppose you take up some of that work, not neglecting
the other, of course. 'These ought ye to have done, and not to have left
the other undone,' I am afraid will be said to a good many of us. But
this is certainly work needing to be done, and work for which you have
leisure."

He hoped to see her face brighten, but it did not. Instead she said:

"I hate calling."

"I dare say; calling that is aimless, and in a sense useless. It must be
hateful work. But if you start out with an object in view, a something
to accomplish that is worth your while, will it not make a great
difference?"

Ruth only sighed.

"I have so many calls to make with father," she said, wearily. "It is
the worst work I do. They are upon fashionable, frivolous people, who
cannot talk about _anything_. It is worse martyrdom now than it used to
be. I think I am peculiarly unfitted for such work, Dr. Dennis."

"But I want you to try a different style of calls. Go alone; not with
your father, or with anyone who will trammel your tongue; and go among a
class of people who do not expect you, and will be surprised and
pleased, and helped, perhaps. Come, let me give you a list of persons
whom I would like to have you call on at your earliest opportunity. This
is work that I am really longing to see done."

A prisoner about to receive sentence could hardly have looked more
gloomy than did Ruth. She was still for a few minutes, then she said:

"Dr. Dennis, do you really think it is a person's duty to do that sort
of work for which he or she feels least qualified, and which is the most
distasteful?"

"No," said Dr. Dennis, promptly. "My dear Miss Erskine, will you be so
kind as to tell me the work for which you feel qualified, and for which
you have no distaste?"

Again Ruth hesitated, looked confused, and then laughed. She began to
see that she was making a very difficult task for her pastor.

"I don't feel qualified for anything," she said, at last. "And I feel
afraid to undertake anything. But at the same time, I think I ought to
be at work."

"Now we begin to see the way clearer," he said, smiling, and with
encouragement in his voice. "It may seem a strange thing to you, but a
sense of unfitness is sometimes one of the very best qualifications for
such work. If it is strong enough to drive us to the blessed Friend who
has promised to make perfect our weakness in this as in all other
efforts, and if we go out armed in His strength we are sure to conquer.
Try it. Take this for your motto: 'As ye have opportunity.' And, by the
way, do you know the rest of that verse? 'Especially to them who are of
the household of faith.' It is members of the household that I want you
to call on, remember."

Ruth laughed again, and shook her head. But she took her list and went
away. She had no more that she wanted to say just then; but she felt
that she had food for thought.

"I may try it," she said, as she went out, holding up her list, "but I
feel that I shall blunder, and do more harm than good."

Dr. Dennis looked after her with a face on which there was no smile.
"There goes one," he said to himself, "who thinks she is willing to be
led, but, on the contrary, she wants to lead. She is saved, but not
subdued. I wonder what means the great Master will have to use to lead
her to rest in his hands, knowing no way but his?"

CHAPTER XIV

AN UNARMED SOLDIER.

MANY things intervened to keep Ruth Erskine from having much to do with
that list which her pastor had given her. She read it over indeed, and
realized that she was not familiar with a single name.

"What an idea it will be for me to go blundering through the city,
hunting up people whom I shall not know when I find."

This she said as she read it over; then she laid it aside, and made
ready to go out to dinner with her father, to meet two judges and their
wives and daughters who were stopping in town.

During that day she thought many times of the sentences that had been
read to her out of that plain-looking, much-worn Bible on Dr. Dennis'
study-table. The only effect they had on her was to make her smile at
the thought of the impossibility of anything like a religious
conversation in such society as that!

"How they would stare," she said to herself, "if I should ask them about
a prayer-meeting! I have half a mind to try it. If father were not
within hearing I would, just to see what these finished young ladies
would say."

But she did not try it; and the evening passed, as so many evenings had,
without an attempt on her part to carry out any of the thoughts which
troubled her. She looked forward to one bit of work which she expected
to fall to her share, at least she liked to call it work.

That card-party to which she had been invited; she would be expected to
attend in company with Mr. Wayne; she meant to decline, and her father
would be surprised and a trifle annoyed, for it was at a place where,
not liking the people well enough himself to be social, he desired his
daughter to atone for his deficiency. But she would steadily refuse. She
did not shrink from this effort as Flossy did; on the contrary, she
half enjoyed the thought of being a calm and composed martyr.

But, quite to her discomfort, the martyrdom was not permitted; at least
it took a different form. Mr. Wayne was obliged to be out of town, and
sent profuse regrets, assuming that, of course, it would be a sore
disappointment to her.

Her father took sufficient notice of it to make one or two efforts to
agreeably supply his place, and failing in that, assured his daughter
that rather than have her disappointed, he would have planned to
accompany her himself if he had known of Mr. Wayne's absence in time.
The actual cross that it would have been to explain to her father that
she did not desire to go, and the reasons therefor, she did not take up;
but the occurrence served to annoy her.

Two days afterward she was busy all the morning with her dressmaker,
getting a special dress ready for a wedding among the upper circles. She
had been hurried and worried, and was as nearly out of patience as her
calmness ever allowed her to be. Still she remembered that it was the
prayer-meeting evening, that she should see Dr. Dennis, and that he
would be likely to ask her about the people on that list. She ought to
go that afternoon, and try what she could do.

Once since her call on Dr. Dennis she had met him as he was going down
Clinton Street, and he had turned and joined her for a few steps, while
he said:

"I have been thinking about another friend of yours, that I should be
very glad to see influenced in the right direction. His sister is
trying, I presume; but other people's sisters some times have an
influence. Young Mitchell, the doctor's son, is a young man of real
promise; he ought to be on the Lord's side."

"You are mistaken in supposing him to be a friend of mine," Ruth said,
with promptness and emphasis. "We have the most distant speaking
acquaintance only, and I have a dislike for him amounting to absolute
aversion." There was that in Ruth Erskine's voice when she chose to let
it appear that said, "My aversion is a very serious and disagreeable
thing."

"Yes," the Doctor said, quietly, as one in no degree surprised or
disturbed; "yet he has a soul to be saved, and the Lord Jesus Christ
died to save him."

There was no denying this; and certainly it would not look well in her
to say that she had no desire to have part in his salvation; so she kept
silence. But there followed her a disagreeable remembrance of having
negatived every proposition whereby the doctor had hoped to set her at
work. She decided, disagreeable as it was, to make a vigorous assault on
those families, thereby showing him what she could do.

To this end she arrayed herself in immaculate calling attire--with a
rustle of silk and a softness of ruffle, and a daintiness of glove that
none but the wealthy can assume, and, in short, with that unmistakable
air about every thing pertaining to her that marks the lady of fashion.
These things were as much a part of Ruth Erskine as her hair and eyes
were. Once ready, her dress, perhaps, gave her as little thought as her
eyes or hair did. But she looked as though that must have been the sole
object of thought and study in order to produce such perfect results.

Her preparation for her new and untried work had been none of the best.
As I said, the morning had been given to the cares of the dressmaker and
the deceitfulness of trimmings, so much so that her Bible reading even
had been omitted, and only the briefest and most hurried of prayers,
worthy of the days when prayer was nothing to her but a formal bowing of
the head, on proper occasions, had marked her need of help from the
Almighty Hand. These thoughts troubled her as she went down the Street.
She paused irresolutely before one of the principal bookstores.

"I ought to have some tracts," she said, doubtfully, to herself; "they
always take tracts when they go district visiting; I know that from
hearing Mrs. Whipple talk; what is this but a district visiting; only
Dr. Dennis has put my district all over the city; I wonder if he could
have scattered the streets more if he had tried; respectable streets,
though, all of them; better than any Mrs. Whipple ever told about."

Then she tried to select her tracts; but when one has utter ignorance of
such literature, and a few minutes at a crowded counter in which to make
a selection, it is not likely to be very select. She finally gave up any
attempt at choice, beyond a few whose titles seemed inviting, chose a
package at random, and hastened on her way.

"Mrs. C. Y. Sullivan" was the first name on her list, and, following her
directions, she came presently to the street and number. A neat brick
house, with a modern air about it and its surroundings; a bird singing
in a cage before the open window, and pots of flowers blooming behind
tastefully looped white curtains; not at all the sort of a house that
Ruth had imagined she would see.

It did not suit her ideas of district visiting, crude though those ideas
were. However, she rang the bell. Having commenced the task she was not
one to draw back, though she admitted to herself that she never felt
more embarrassed in her life. Nor did the embarrassment lessen when she
was shown into the pretty, tasteful parlor, where presently Mrs.
Sullivan joined her.

"I am Miss Erskine," Ruth said, rising as Mrs. Sullivan, a tall woman of
some degree of dignity after a slight bow, waited as if she would know
her errand. Unfortunately Ruth had no errand, save that she had come out
to do her duty, and make the sort of call that Dr. Dennis expected her
to make. Her embarrassment was excessive! What _could_ she do or say
next? Why did not Mrs. Sullivan take a chair, instead of standing there
and looking at her like an idiot?

"Do you get out to church every Sabbath?" she asked, suddenly, feeling
the need of saying something.

Mrs. Sullivan looked as though she thought she had suddenly come in
contact with a lunatic.

"Do I get out to church?" she repeated. "That depends on whether I
decide to go or not. May I ask why you are interested?"

What had become of Ruth's common sense? Why couldn't she have said, in
as natural a way as she would have talked about going to a concert, that
she was interested to know whether she enjoyed such a privilege? Why
couldn't she have been herself in talking about these matters, as well
as at any other time? Does anyone know why such a sense of horrible
embarrassment creeps over some people when their conversation takes the
least tinge of religion--people who are wonderfully self-possessed on
all other themes?

"Well," said Ruth, in haste and confusion, "I merely inquired; I mean
no offence, certainly; will you have a tract?" And she hastily seized
one from her package, which happened to be entitled, "Why are you not a
Christian?"

"Thank you," Mrs. Sullivan said, drawing back, "I am not in special need
of reading matter; we keep ourselves supplied with religious literature
of a kind that suits our tastes. As to tracts, I always keep a package
by me to distribute when I go among the poor. This one would not be
particularly appropriate to me, as I trust I am a Christian."

Dear me! how stiff and proper they both were! And in their hearts how
indignant they both felt. What about? Could either of them have told?

"I wonder what earthly good that call did?" Ruth asked herself, as with
glowing cheeks and rapid steps, she made her way down the street. "What
could have been Dr. Dennis' object in sending me there to call? I
thought I was to call on the poor. He didn't say any thing about whether
they were poor or not, now I think of it; but I supposed, of course,
that was what he meant. Why need she have been so disagreeable, anyway?
I am sure I didn't insult her."

And I tell you truly that Miss Erskine did not know that she had seemed
disagreeable in the extreme to Mrs. Sullivan, and that she was at that
moment raging over it in her heart.

Extremely disgusted with her first attempt, and almost ready to declare
that it should be the last, Ruth still decided to make one more
venture--that inborn dislike which she had for giving up what had once
been undertaken, coming to her aid in this matter.

Another pretty little house, white and green blinds, and plant in bloom;
the name on the door and on her list was "Smith." That told her very
little. She was ushered into what was evidently the family sitting-room,
and a pretty enough room it was; occupied just now by three merry girls,
who hushed their laugh as she entered, and by a matronly lady, whom one
of them called "mother."

Ruth had never made calls before when she had the least tinge of
embarrassment. If she could have divested herself of the idea that she
was a district visitor out distributing tracts, she would not have felt
so now; but as it was, the feeling grew upon her every instant. Pretty
little Miss Smith had decidedly the advantage of her, as she said,
promptly:

"Good afternoon, Miss Erskine; mother, this is Judge Erskine's
daughter;" and then proceeded to introduce her friends.

Now, if Ruth could have become unprofessional, all might have been well;
but she had gone out with a sincere desire to do her duty; so she took
the offered seat near Mrs. Smith, and said:

"I called this afternoon, at Dr. Dennis' request, to see if there was
anything that I could do for you."

Mrs. Smith looked politely amazed.

"I don't think I quite understand," she said, slowly; while in the
daughter's bright eyes there gleamed mirth and mischief.

"I do," she said, quickly. "Dr. Dennis is very kind. Miss Erskine, I am
very anxious to have a blue silk dress, trimmed in white lace, to wear
to the party next week; could you manage it for me, do you think?"

"Caroline!" spoke Mrs. Smith, in a surprised and reproving tone, while
Ruth looked her indignant astonishment.

"Well, mother, she said she called to see if we wanted anything, and I
certainly want that."

"There is some mistake," Mrs. Smith said, speaking kindly, and evidently
pitying Ruth's dreadful embarrassment. "You have mistaken the house, I
presume; our name is such a common one. You are out on an errand of
charity, I presume? We are glad to see you, of course, but we are not in
need of anything but friends. I believe you attend the same church with
ourselves; we ought to know each other, of course. So we shall profit by
the mistake after all. My daughter is a wild little girl, and lets her
sense of fun get the better of her politeness sometimes; I hope you will
excuse her."

What was to be said? Why could not Ruth get rid of her horrible
embarrassment and rally to meet this kind and frank greeting? In vain
she tried to command her tongue; to think of something to say that would
be proper under these strange circumstances. How had she misunderstood
Dr. Dennis! Why should these people be called on? Why should they feel
that they were being neglected when they were in need of nothing?

It was all a mystery to her; and the world is full of people who do not
understand a sense of loneliness, whose lives are so full of
friendships, and engagements, and society, that they imagine all other
people are like themselves except that class known as the poor, who need
old clothes, and cold pieces, and tracts!

That was all that Ruth Erskine knew. She could not recover from her
astonishment and confusion; she made her stay very short, indeed,
apologizing in what she was conscious was an awkward way for her
intrusion, and then went directly toward home, resolving in great
firmness that she had made her last calls on people selected from that
horrible list.

She was more than embarrassed; she was utterly dismayed and
disheartened. Was there, then, nothing for her to do? It had been a real
honest desire to be up and doing which had sent her to Dr. Dennis; it
had been a real cross, and one keenly felt to take up this work about
which she had started. What an utter failure! What could he have meant?
How was she expected to help those people? They needed nothing; they
were Christian people; they were pleasantly circumstanced in every way.
She had not the least idea how to be of any help to them. There was
nothing for her to do. She felt humbled and sad.

Yet that young lady was joined in a few minutes by Nellis Mitchell, who
cordially volunteered to shield her dainty summer toilet from certain
drops of rain that began to fall, and so walked six entire blocks by her
side, pleasant and genial as usual, and not a word said she to him about
the great topic to which her life was consecrated. He even helped her by
himself referring to the evening meeting, and saying that he should have
to escort Eurie as far as the door if this rain continued, and she did
not so much as think to ask him to come farther and enjoy the meeting
with them. She did not like Nellis Mitchell, you will remember.

Also that same evening she spent an hour after prayer-meeting in
conversation with her friend, Mr. Wayne, and she said not a single word
to him about this matter. She could not talk with him, she told
herself; he did not understand her, and it did no good. Some time, when
he was in a less complaisant mood, she could do something for him, but
not now. She was not very companionable, however; her mind was dwelling
on her afternoon disappointment.

"It was the most horrid time I ever had in my life!" she told Marion,
after going over an account of the experience. "I shall not be caught in
that way again."

And Marion, unsympathetic girl that she was, laughed much and long.

"What a creature you are!" she said, at last. "I declare, it is funny
that people can live in the world and know so little about their
fellow-mortals as you and Flossy do. She knows no more about them than a
kitten does, and you know no more than the moon. You sail right above
all their feelings and ideas. It served you right, I declare. What
earthly right had you to go sailing down on people in that majestic
fashion, and asking questions as if they were Roman Catholics and you
were the priest?"

"I don't see what in the world you mean!" Ruth said, feeling exceedingly
annoyed.

"Well, my dear young woman, you ought to see; you can't expect to get
through the Christian world even without having a due regard for common
sense. Just suppose the President's wife should come sweeping into your
parlor, asking you if you went to church, and if you would have a tract.
I am afraid you would be tempted to tell her it was none of her
business."

"The cases are not at all parallel," Ruth said, flushing deeply. "I
consider myself on quite an equal footing with the President's wife or
any other lady."

Whereupon Marion laughed with more _abandon_ than before.

"Now, Ruth Erskine," she said, "don't be a goose. Do use your common
sense; you have some, I am sure. Wherein are these people whom you went
to see on a lower footing than yourself? Granting that they have less
money than you do, or even, perhaps, less than I have, are you ready to
admit that money is the question that settles positions in society?"

CHAPTER XV.

MARION'S PLAN.

"MISS WILBUR! Miss Wilbur! can't we go in Miss Lily's class to-day, our
teacher isn't here?"

"Miss Wilbur, they are crowding us off the seat; there isn't room for no
more in this class."

"Miss Wilbur, sister Nellie can't come to-day; she has the toothache.
Can I go in Kitty's class?"

Every one of these little voices spoke at once; two of the owners
thereof twitched at her dress, and another of them nudged her elbow. In
the midst of this little babel of confusion the door opened softly, and
Dr. Dennis came in. Marion turned toward him and laughed--a perplexed
laugh that might mean something besides amusement.

"What is it?" he asked, answering the look instead of the laugh.

"It is everything," she said, quickly. "You mustn't stay a minute, Dr.
Dennis; we are not in company trim to-day at all. Unless you will do the
work, we can't have you."

"I came to hear, not to work," he said, smiling, and at the same time
looking troubled.

"You will hear very little that will interest you for the next ten
minutes at least; though I don't know but you would better stay; it
would be a good introduction to the talk that I want to have with you
early in the week. I am coming to-morrow after school, if I may."

Dr. Dennis gave the assent promptly, named the hour that he would be at
leisure, and went away wondering what they were accomplishing in the
primary class.

This was the introduction to Marion's talk in the study with Dr. Dennis.
She wasted no time in preliminaries, but had hardly seated herself
before the subject on her mind was brought forward.

"It is all about that class, Dr. Dennis. I am going to prove a failure."

"Don't," he said, smiling at her words, but looking his disturbance; "we
have had failures enough in that class to shipwreck it; it is quite time
we had a change for the better. What is the trouble?"

"The trouble is, we do nothing. Two-thirds of our time is occupied in
getting ready to do; and even then we can't half accomplish it. Then we
don't stay ready, and have to begin the work all over again. Yesterday,
for instance, there were three absences among the teachers; that means
confusion, for each of those teachers have seven children who are thus
thrown loose on the world. Think how much time we must consume in
getting them seated somewhere, and under some one's care; and then
imagine, if you can, the amount of time that they consume in saying,
'Our teacher doesn't do so, she does _so_.'"

"What is the reason that the teachers in that room are so very
irregular?"

"Why, they are not irregular; that is as Sunday-school teachers rate
regularity. To be sure, it would never do to be teaching a graded
school, for instance, and be as careless as some of them are about
regularity. But that is a different matter, of course; this is only a
Sunday-school! But for all that, I think they do as well as the average.
You see, Dr. Dennis, there are twenty of them, and if each one of them
is present every Sunday in the year save three, that makes a good deal
of regularity on their part, and yet averages absences every Sabbath to
be looked after. Don't you see?"

"I see," he said, smiling; "that is a mathematical way of putting it.
There is reason in it, too. How in the world do you manage when there
are vacancies?"

"Which is always," Marion said, quickly. "There has not been a Sabbath
since I have had charge when all the teachers were present; and I have
taken pains to inquire of the former superintendent, who reports very
much the same. Isn't it so in all schools, Dr. Dennis?"

"Of course there must of necessity be some detentions; but not so many,
probably, as there actually are, if we were in the habit of being very
conscientious about these matters; still, I don't know that we are worse
than others. But you haven't told me how you manage?"

"I manage every way; there is no set way to do it. I stand around in
much the same state of perplexity in which you found me yesterday. The
children each have their special friends who have been put in other
classes, and they are on the _qui vive_ to be with them, which adds not
a little to the general confusion. Sometimes we have a regular whirl
about of seats, enlarge two or three classes, and crowd some seats most
uncomfortably, leaving others empty; sometimes we go out to the
Bible-classes for volunteers--and, by the way, it is nearly impossible
to find any. I wish you would preach a sermon on that subject. It is so
easy to say, 'Oh, please excuse me;' it requires so little courage to do
it; and is such a comfortable and unanswerable way of disposing of the
whole matter. At the same time there is some degree of excuse for the
refusals. Think of the folly of setting a young girl who knows nothing
about little children, and has made no preparation to teach them, beside
half a dozen little restless mortals, and bidding her interest them in
the lesson for ten minutes. She doesn't know how to interest them, and
she knows she doesn't, and the fact embarrasses her. Before she has
fairly found out what she is expected to do her time is gone; for it
takes a wonderful amount of time to get ready to work."

"But these young girls have only to teach certain Scripture verses, and
a prayer or a hymn, or something of that sort have they not? One would
think they might be equal to that without preparation."

"Do you think so?" Marion asked, a gleam of fun in her keen eyes. "I
should like to see you try it, provided you have no better mental
caliber to assist you than some of the volunteers have. Why, there is a
right and wrong way of teaching even a Bible verse. Do you know, sir,
that you may repeat over words to children like a list from a spelling
lesson, and they will get no more idea from it than if it were a French
sentence, and will be able to commit it about as readily? If I had
children, I should rebel at their being taught even Bible verses by
novices. Why, it isn't allowed in public schools. The days have gone by
when anybody is supposed to be smart enough to teach children to drawl
through the alphabet. We have the best of trained teachers even for that
work, why should the Sunday-school not need them even more, infinitely
more?

"Now that reminds me of a difficulty which is present even when the
teachers are all there. They are not the right sort of teachers, many of
them; they do just such work as would not be tolerated on week-days by
any board of trustees; they whisper to each other; sometimes about the
music which they are practicing, sometimes about the party that is to
come off to-morrow. These are the exceptions, I know; but there are such
exceptions in our school, and human nature is much the same the world
over. I presume they are everywhere; at any rate, we have to deal just
now with _our_ school, and I know they are there.

"Dr. Dennis, there are at least seven of those twenty teachers in my
room who ought to be in good, solid, earnest working Bible classes,
getting faith for help every Sunday; getting ideas that shall make them
of use in the world, instead of frittering their time away on what at
best, seems to them but a very mechanical work, teaching some little
children to repeat the Twenty-third Psalm, or to say the Lord's Prayer.
The very fact that they do not recognize the dignity of such work unfits
them for it; and the fact that they have no lesson to teach, I mean no
lesson which they have to prepare carefully, excuses them from any
attempt at Bible study."

"I believe you would make an excellent lecturer, if you were to take the
field on a subject that interested you." This was Dr. Dennis' most
irrelevant answer to Marion's eager words. She was not to be thrown off
her theme.

"Then I shall try it, perhaps, on this very subject, for it certainly
interests me wonderfully. Indeed, I am practicing now, with you for my
audience."

"Don't think I am not interested, for I am," he said, returning to
gravity and anxiety on the instant. "I see the subject to be full of
perplexities; the class has seemed a bewildering one; the idea of
putting the babies away alone in their own room fitted up for the
purpose, and feeding them with milk until they are old enough to bear
strong meat, has been something of a hobby with me. I like it
theoretically, but I confess to you that I have never been able to enjoy
its practical workings in our school."

"I don't wonder," Marion said, with energy. "It works most
distressingly. I am coming to the very pith of my lecture now, which is
this: I have been teaching school for more than seven years. I have
taught all sorts and sizes of pupils. I had a fancy that I could manage
almost anything in that line, believing that I had been through
experiences varied enough to serve me in whatever line I could need, but
I have found myself mistaken; I have found a work now that I can't
accomplish. Mind you, I don't say that no one can do it; I am not quite
so egotistic as that. If I do lecture, I have only to say that my
teaching in that room is a failure, I can't do it, and I mean to give it
up."

"Don't," Dr. Dennis said, nervously. "You will be the third one in a
year's time."

"I don't wonder. I wonder that they are alive."

"But, Miss Wilbur, you are a dark and gloomy lecturer. When you demolish
air castles, have you nothing to build up in their places? Would you
send the babies back into the main room again, to be worn out with quiet
and lack of motion?"

"Not a bit of it. I like the baby-room plan as well as any mortal; and I
have a remedy which it seems to me would arrange the whole thing. Of
course it seems so to me; we always like our own ways. The truth is, Dr.
Dennis, I like nurseries, and think they ought to be maintained; but I
don't like the idea of too many mothers there."

"Just what, in plain English, would you do, my friend, if you were
commander-in-chief of the whole matter, and all we had to do was to obey
you?"

"It isn't at all modest to tell," Marion said, laughing, "but it is
true. I would banish every one of those twenty teachers, and reign alone
in my glory. No I wouldn't either. I would pick out the very best one
among them, and train her for an assistant."

"And manage the whole number yourself!"

"Why not? There are only a hundred of them, and I have managed that
number for six hours a day, five days in a week, without difficulty."

"Well, now, let me see just what you think you gain."

"It would take too long to tell. In my own opinion, I gain almost
everything. But, in the first place, let me suppose a case. We have one
good teacher, we will say, in that class, who knows just what she is
about, and comes prepared to be about it. She has, say, two assistants,
each carefully trained to a certain work; each understanding that in the
event of the detention of the leader one of them will be called on to
teach the class, each pledging herself to notify the other of necessary
absences. Don't you see that it will rarely, if ever, happen that one of
the three cannot be at her post? The very sense of importance and
responsibility attached to their office will lessen the chance of
absence, while one teacher in twenty is almost sure to be away. Then we
have those young girls in their places in the Bible class learning to be
teachers indeed."

"But, Miss Wilbur, would not such a work be very hard for the leader?"

"Why harder than the present system in our school? I think, mind you,
that it wouldn't be nearly so hard. But, for the sake of the argument, I
will say, Why any harder? Why cannot her one assistant relieve her in
just the same way that the other twenty are supposed to do now? Is there
any known reason why a hundred children cannot repeat the Lord's Prayer
together as well as have a lesson taught them together? Children like
it, I assure you; there is an enthusiasm in numbers; they would much
rather speak aloud and in beautiful unison, as they can be trained to
do, than to speak so low that the recitation loses half its beauty,
because they must not disturb others.

"Then, I don't know how it is with other teachers, but, theoretically,
you may plan out the work of these young teachers as much as you please,
and, practically, they will do very much as they please; and it is a
great deal harder for me to sit listening to a sort of teaching that I
don't like, and know that I am obliged to be still and endure it, than
it is to do it myself.

"The idea that one hour of work on the Sabbath is so fearfully wearing,
is in my humble opinion all nonsense; those who think so, have never
been teachers of graded schools six hours a day, five days in the week,
I don't believe. However, that is my opinion, you know. I may be quite
mistaken as to theory; but I know as much as this. I am sure I could do
the teaching alone, and I am sure that I can't do it with twenty
helpers, so I just want to give it up."

"Don't give up the subject yet, please; I am interested. There is an
argument on the other side that is very strong, I think. You haven't
touched upon it. I have heard a good deal said, and thought it a point