 Chapter 24. Reading Between the Lines Good morning! she said in her cheeriest tones. How are the maimed members this morning? Then, hardly waiting a reply, I have just been seized with what I hope is a bright idea. There is a chance for some leisure time being on my hands this morning. Professor Glick has been telegraphed away for the day, so I cannot take my music lesson. Don't you need to have something read to you? That used once to be a regular employment of mine. There was no mistaking the ring of satisfaction in his reply. You are an angel of mercy, without doubt, Miss Meredith. I have been groaning in spirit all the morning, and, in fact, doing some of the groaning aloud, because I could not use my eyes. What have you to read to me? That depends, replied this wily schemer in her most innocent tones. What is your present mood? Is it safe to mention work to you? Some textbook which you are sighing for? Or do you need to be amused? My experience with the species known as college students is that there is no accounting for their tastes. It may be a treatise on the philosophy of the will or the latest novel for which they are pining. Certainly the way could not be more comfortably opened for that detestable review, in ten minutes they were at work. This proved to be the beginning of a very interesting two weeks, the sprained ankle making itself more troublesome than was at first expected. But it could not have been because its owner retarded its cure by chafing. He was almost content, even with partially bandaged eyes. Rebecca proved a most delightful reader. Moreover, she was interested in the things she was reading, textbooks though they were, and asked questions in such an intelligent and thoroughly interested manner, that the college youth, who was a good scholar, and had almost no friends with whom he could talk over his studies, enjoyed explaining to her fully as much as he enjoyed getting on in his work by her aid. Of course the explanations fixed the facts more firmly in his mind, and made his knowledge of them clearer. At first he was conscience-stricken at taking so much of his reader's time, and protested earnestly against the sacrifice. But Rebecca was so entirely willing to be sacrificed, and entered with such hearty enjoyment into the work, that his protests grew fainter and fainter, especially as he saw what benefit he was deriving. Professor Glick was dissatisfied, and grumbled, but he was a secondary consideration with this young woman, however much he might suppose himself first. The work for which he had actually come to this city was making great progress, and music could afford to wait. Occasionally there were other duties besides those of wetting the compresses for the eyes, rearranging the cushions for the ankle, and reading chapters on chemistry, rhetoric, mental science, and the like. Look here! was Mackenzie's greeting one evening. Would you mind writing a line for me to my father? I never allow a week to pass without his hearing from me, and the rule is to write every two or three days. I am afraid he will be distressed if he doesn't get a letter tomorrow. If you wouldn't mind explaining that I have had a little tip up or down, but am getting on famously, I'll be ever so much obliged. My father will know who you are, I have mentioned your name to him in my letters, and told him I enjoyed your music. Rebecca was glad the speaker's eyes were bandaged. She knew her cheeks must fairly glow. Undoubtedly, his father would know who she was. Moreover, he knew in detail all about the accident and just what the doctor said. But of course that was not to be even hinted at. Her writing materials were brought, and she meekly announced that she was ready for dictation. It would be a great deal better for him to tell her just what to say, but he demurred. He never could dictate. Say what she pleased, only tell him not to be frightened. The ankle was doing famously, and the eyes were only being bandaged now to please the doctor, and thanks to her he was having a real jolly time. In a very few minutes the letter was ready to read aloud. Mr. Dean McKenzie, dear sir, at the request of your son I write to inform you that he has had a slight accident. A misstep from a step-ladder in the laboratory where he was on duty caused him to sprain his ankle slightly. Also a jar of liquid was broken, and some of its contents spattered in his eyes. On this account he is at present unable to write, although the physician assures him that his eyes will be entirely well by next week. His ankle also is improving rapidly, and he bids me say that you are not to be in the least troubled about him. The person who is writing this can add her testimony to the above. She having heard the doctor say but this morning that eyes and ankle were doing well. Yours respectfully, R. L. Meredith. The post script she did not read to her patient. It was as follows. P. S. You may have heard of R. L. Meredith before. She is a maiden lady who is taking music lessons and doing a little hospital nursing at the same time. She has the highest respect for step-ladders and chemical liquids, and is at this writing supremely happy. She may write another letter today and may not have time, as a chapter in psychology awaits her. What would the patient have thought of the post script? Of course, after so many favors given and received, these two could not go back to formalities when Mackenzie was out again. Evidently he had no wish to do so. He frankly met all Rebecca's advances half way. He enjoyed her music and told her so. He mentioned favorites of his own and was gratified with the fact that she promptly added them to her repertoire. It seemed to give him no uneasiness that there were some in the house who made a matter of amusement of the growing intimacy between himself and a woman so much his senior. He met good-natured hints in regard to it with the most good-natured indifference, and rudor thrusts he was not slow to repel with the hoddiness which they deserved. Are you going to take your old girl out tonight? questioned one of the borders, who had a great desire to be on familiar terms with him. I beg your pardon, said Mackenzie, drawing himself up to his full height. Did you speak to me? I only asked if you were going to take anybody with you to the lecture tonight. Oh! I am going to ask Miss Meredith to go over with me, but I have not yet learned whether she will care to do so. Is there any reason why you particularly desire to know? The tone, rather than the words, conveyed to the young man that he had been guilty of a rudeness, but he was too coarse-grained by nature to understand just wherein it lay. However, the fact was that Rebecca, with a view to possible annoyances in this direction for her chosen young friend, made a special effort to be on cordial terms with other young people of the house, and succeeded to a degree that surprised herself. She found them, as a class, not difficult to win, a woman of intelligence and culture older than themselves by a number of years, yet genially interested in all their pursuits and willing to lend a helping hand on occasion, giving unselfishly of her time and skill, whether in the line of music or mending, was apparently a revelation to them. They grew to having a very hearty liking for her, and more than one university student said to Mackenzie, I tell you what it is, that Miss Meredith is first class, isn't she? How well she made those games go the other night! And she never seems bored, no matter what a fellow wants. By degrees, Rebecca discovered that she was actually popular. It was an astonishing discovery. In her early girlhood, she had been too much absorbed in her own pursuits and pleasures to note whether any beside the select few cared for her or not. Later, she had conceived the idea that nobody cared for her. Now she was learning that unselfish interest in others wins its way anywhere. She wrote to Mr. Mackenzie that it almost humiliated and thoroughly frightened her to think how large her influence was in the house. It is true there were some young men who seemed to be always repelled by her. Of this class was Chester. He was not a border, but he affected Mackenzie's society so much as to be often in the house. Rebecca gave some anxious hours to this fact, until she discovered that Chester, in the course of time, outwitted himself. Evidently he feared the old maid's influence over his friend, and exerted himself to counteract it to such an extent that he offended Mackenzie by his rude allusions to her. This Rebecca surmised, rather than knew, by the fact that Chester came much less frequently than before, and that Mackenzie was sharp in his denunciation of him, but refused to enter into particulars. Williston, however, continued to be on very intimate terms, and although Rebecca disliked him less than the other, she regretted the friendship. He was the only one who was guilty of bringing a cigar with him to Mackenzie's room, and Rebecca wondered much why it was allowed, and could not help fearing that it would end in his joining him as a smoker. One evening she boldly spoke her views. It seems a pity that you who dislike the smell of tobacco must be victimized with it in your room. Why are you so patient with that young man's unpleasant habits? He was standing beside her at the piano, turning the music for her. His face clouded instantly as he asked, Do you get the odor of Williston's cigars in your room? I did not think of that. If they trouble you, they shall not be endured. Oh no! I was not thinking of myself. I am rarely in my room when he makes his call. It was the odor of tobacco about you which reminded me of his habits. I thought it must be offensive to you. Why do you think so? Because you do not use tobacco in any form. Such people generally dislike its odor, do they not? Apparently not, he said dryly. If such were the case, would you ladies protest that so far from disliking it you really quite enjoy the odor of a good cigar, and even invite men to smoke in your presence? Do many ladies of your acquaintance advance such views? Not many perhaps, but enough to prove my point. I know some ladies who are quite amused because some of their gentleman acquaintances do not smoke. They make such the objects of their sharpest sallies, so that often a fellow is tempted to go to smoking just to avoid the appearance of being singular. Rebecca thought of the Stover girls and their cousin, and wondered whether they were the ones to whom he referred. She concluded to risk a question. Mr. McKenzie, do many ladies whom you respect and honor conduct themselves in this way? Look here, I thought you were to call me Carol, for the sake of good fellowship. Very well, then Carol, will you answer my question? Why, as to that, I suppose I respect them. They are well enough in their way. They stand high enough in social circles, if that is what you mean. Only I know you never mean that. I am not an ardent admirer of them, but I will confess that I am a good deal bored with trying to keep up a set of habits that are out of the usual line. Cigar smoke isn't particularly offensive to me, now that's a fact. I don't hanker after it, but I don't have the horror of it that my father has, for instance, and that I fancy you have, and I can imagine myself getting fond of the stuff, which would be a great convenience to me as I am situated. Then I am glad that you are the sort of person you are. What sort of a fellow am I? The sort of fellow who thinks more of his father's tastes and desires than of his own convenience, and one who might be made sport of forever without being turned from the road which he meant to travel. The boys' face flushed with pleasure. Thank you, he said. You rate me high, much higher in one respect than I deserve. I tell you frankly, I have been on the very verge of learning to smoke just to get rid of the banter. I wouldn't smoke in my father's presence, of course, nor anywhere indeed where it could annoy him. But if I had not springed my ankle and fallen into your hands, figuratively speaking, I think I should have been comfortably puffing a cigar by this time just for the sake of good fellowship. I am so thankful for that sprained ankle. I shall have a deeper respect than ever for that stepladder. But let me ask you, do you think it is your father's personal dislike to the odor of tobacco which makes him so anxious that you shall avoid the habit, or has he a deeper conviction in regard to it? Oh, his convictions are deep enough. If I were to live in the middle of the Atlantic and he on land, he would still want me not to touch, taste, nor handle. He is extreme in his antipathy, but I can't say that I know why, and a fellow can't order his whole life to suit his father's notions, can he? There are some things he might do, perhaps, for a good father, but I should hardly think he could be expected to give up so healthful and agreeable and refined a habit as to puffing smoke into other people's faces or into the curtains and cushions of his own apartments. That would be too much to expect. Carol laughed good humoredly. Now, don't be sarcastic with me, he said. Save that for Williston. You cut him up dreadfully to-night, did you see him blush? But I tell you, the ladies are largely to blame for the prevalence of the tobacco habit. I know fellows who would be willing enough to give it up if certain girls whom they admire had strong convictions on the subject. That would be worth something, certainly. And I admit that the girls who have not have much to answer for. But why not let the fellows have strong convictions for themselves? Let us study up on the subject, Carol, and see what we think and why we think it. I know some books and papers which make very strong statements. If they are facts, reasonable people need no other proofs on which to base convictions, and you and I ought to have brains enough to find out whether they are facts or not. All right, said Carol heartily, I'll go into it, and if I prove that the said facts are a pack of sensation make-ups, as I dare say I can, why I'll go to smoking pel-mel next week. You are not afraid to have me undertake it? Not a bit. But Mr. McKenzie's senior, left alone in his desolate home, seemed to have time for all sorts of forebodings. He wrote some anxious letters to Rebecca during these weeks. He heard much of her, he assured her. Carol never wrote a letter nowadays without telling of some kindness of hers, and that he was grateful with a gratitude that words could not express. He knew she would understand. At the same time his heart ached over his boy. He knew so well his easygoing temperament in some respects. His very friends among the students were chosen not because he felt drawn toward them, but because they sought him out and would hang on to him, and he did not like to shake them off. His scholarship was excellent. In fact, he had stood always among the first, yet his constant companions were scholars only in name. Carol did not understand, the father said, that they followed him about because he had money and was careless in the use of it, but thought that they were actually attached to him, and by the very kindness of his heart he could be ruined. He was thinking of this more anxiously now, because reports very seriously against young Chester were constantly coming home, and it was a pain to him to have his son's name coupled with that young man's. In short, wrote the father, if I could hear that my boy's feet were anchored on the rock, then I should feel safe. For what he undertakes when roused and in earnest he accomplishes, and it would be no half-way work with him. I try to write to him about these things, but what can a father say, who, until his son was a man grown, gave no personal heed to the call of Christ? But for you, Rebecca, and your cry to him for me on that awful night, I should be an outsider still. Will you not ask the same mighty Christ to put his arms about my boy? I need not tell you how I pray for this. I know my boy would love Jesus Christ if he could be led to make his acquaintance. Last night I read the words, and Jesus, beholding him, loved him. I could not help thinking he would say the same of my carol. Oh, Rebecca, I hope so much because of your influence in this direction. Over this letter Rebecca shed some tears. It was so evident that the father put almost unbounded trust in her influence, and yet that he felt she was not pushing the claims of Jesus Christ as rapidly as she might. There were so many ways of influencing the boy which the father did not understand, and which he could not explain on paper. She knew that she was working for Christ, but she must be as wise as a serpent in fishing for his soul. End of Chapter 24 Perhaps, after all, this winter, which for certain reasons was expected to seem long, passed quite as rapidly as any which had preceded it. For one reason, most of the persons concerned were very busy. Certainly, Rebecca Meredith found that her hands and heart were almost more than full. What with her music and her friendships and her church work and her semi-weekly correspondence, to say nothing of her many letters to Lillian, every hour had its duties. To undertake to be friend and confidant, and in a degree caretaker for a house full of young people, was found to require no small amount of planning, as well as the quiet giving up of some plans which had been dear to her own heart. Moreover, as has been hinted, the church claimed this belated worker for a fair share of its responsibilities. It is possible that she may have been even more eager to do her share, because she realized so forcibly at times the wasted years. Certain it is that the young men in her Bible class, and the young women in her Tuesday evening class, found in her a faithful and persistent friend and helper. One bit of work dear to her heart grew out of her having met accidentally on the street one day, none other than Nancy, the former chambermaid at Carol Place. Bless us and save us! exclaimed that young woman, in a voice much too loud for the street. If here ain't Rebecca herself as large as life! Ain't it queer now that I should meet you in this great big city? Be you living here? Where? Bless us and save us, if I didn't think you'd stick by Miss Lillian. And I wish to goodness I had. He was awful stuck up and particular and grand, but he was enough sight better to work for than any I have found since. Say, do you know where Miss Lillian is? Rebecca made what explanation was necessary, and Nancy commented. My, in the country this time of year? Nancy evidently looked upon the country as a howling wilderness of ice and snow without one redeeming feature, but the voice was very tender in which she said, Poor little dear! I'd give all my months wages to see her for an hour. I tell you, Rebecca, I've got an awful place. Sometimes I think I won't stand at another hour, and then again I think what's the use? Maybe I shouldn't better myself if I should change, but I couldn't do much worse. There ain't no hope of my being wanted where Miss Lillian is, I suppose? Land, yes. I'd go to the country quick enough for the sake of seeing her. It was Rebecca's turn to question. Yes, Nancy's place was hard enough. It did not seem strange when one heard a description of the dark basement corner which was called her room, that she was tempted to spend her evenings on the streets, or at the lowest variety theaters, anywhere where there was light and warmth and some sort of companionship. Up to this point, Rebecca had felt only dismay at the thought of possible embarrassments connected with Nancy. Now she forgot herself, and began to consider how it was possible to save Nancy from the almost certain ruin which waited at street corners for such as she. It was not much that she could do, she told herself, but the interview made her ready, even eager, to help push an enterprise which was started but a few days afterwards in the church which she attended. This was the opening of Branch Young Woman's Christian Association rooms in that very portion of the city where Nancy at present made her home. And Nancy, being really attached to Rebecca, was induced to go there for several meetings in succession, to go, indeed, until she became so interested in learning how to make a dress for herself as to need no other inducement. The truth is, Nancy was honestly fond of respectability, nor did the embarrassments which Rebecca had feared because of her ever come in as a disturbing element. What be you doing? She had asked, in the early days of this renewed acquaintance, and on being informed she had opened her eyes very wide, asked several other questions, and finally, after a minute's silence, burst forth with, You ain't like one of us, I always said so. I told Mrs. Barnett once that you wasn't any more a nurse girl than I was the queen. But whatever you was humbugging around for, I'll always say you did it well. Miss Lillian was took care of as she never was before. There was no mystery about it, Nancy. Rebecca answered quietly. My father lost some money and I wanted to help him. I went to the city expecting to do other work, but it failed me, and I became nurse girl for the time because I knew I could be faithful and earn a respectable living. Now the need for it has passed by. My eyes, was Nancy's comment. There's lots of folks that wouldn't have done it. After that she kept her own counsel and further demonstrated her superiority over many by addressing Rebecca, after a few weeks of experience in the newly opened rooms, as Miss Meredith. Oh, there were lessons which might have been learned even of Nancy. It interested Rebecca to note how many of those she has said to help came in process of time her teachers. There, for instance, was Carol Mackenzie. You asked me once what made me tolerate Williston and his cigar in my room. He said to her, and I did not answer. What would you say if I told you there was a reason which was not born of indolence or indifference? The fact is, Miss Meredith, when Williston is smoking in my room he isn't smoking anywhere else, don't you see? And there are worse places than that to be found without much hunting. Look here, don't you think you are rather hard on Williston? I tell you the fellow is worth a kind of word now and then. He has none too many of them. His mother is a fashionable woman who would rather caress a lapdog than write to her son any day. And his father is a stepfather, who married his mother because he liked her bank account. Poor Williston hasn't the least idea what a real father can be. He is not popular in college. The only one who is uniformly good-natured to him is Chester. And perhaps you can surmise that Chester's influence isn't as angelic as it might be. If I were you, and knew how to be good to as many people as you do, I'd save a little bit of it for poor fellows like Williston. Rebecca listened, conscience-stricken as well as amused. There were touches of the divine it seemed about Carole which his father did not suspect. After that she set herself to win the friendship of Williston. In all these ways the winter hastened. There was one delightful break in its routine. Rebecca went home during the holidays for a flying visit, and Mr. McKenzie chose the same time to make his visit to Lillian. At first these two puzzled much as to how they would plan for Carole's Christmas. But suddenly one of the professors, a young man who knew neither of them, came to the rescue. Carole was invited to accompany him to his father's house for the holidays, with the promise of being able to examine certain rare books in a very choice library. This was an opportunity by no means to be slighted, and both Rebecca's and Mr. McKenzie's advice that the invitation be accepted with thanks was hearty in the extreme. Mr. McKenzie was back at his own home for new years, and Carole spent that day and the three following with him. But early in the new year the two borders were back in their rooms at work. Rebecca had by no means forgotten the father's appeal that she should try to help the feet of his son to rest upon the rock. As a matter of fact it was for this that she prayed and watched unceasingly. But as yet there had been no very encouraging indications. Carole, who was frank and genial on every other subject, was reserved almost to coldness whenever she ventured to mention religious themes. He attended church quite regularly on Sabbath mornings, and occasionally went with her in the evenings, but he assured her that he did it only to please her, and felt that he would be more profitably employed in his room getting ready for the next day's recitations. He also admitted that his regular attendance in the morning was out of respect to his father's wishes and example. For the rest he evaded all her efforts to understand him more fully, yet he made no attempt to pose as a skeptic. Of course I have an intellectual belief in all these things. He said once, in answer to some question of hers, no history is better authenticated than the so-called religious history. It requires a greater stretch of credulity to account for things in general on some other basis than it does to accept your and my father's theories. But Carole, she said, isn't it a strange position for an intelligent young man to take, to accept theories which drive you to certain conclusions, and then live as though you discarded them? Ah, now don't let us go to arguing about that. Was his careless rejoinder? I assure you, it will do no good. I don't pretend to be consistent. Very few people are. All I am sure of is that I don't want to hear anything about it. Please let us talk of something else. Much she puzzled over it, wondering what could be in his way and why he would not at least talk frankly with her, and great was her disappointment in the thought that on this most important of all themes she was evidently making no progress. It was in March, toward the middle of the month, that a new element of power came into Rebekah's life. In the church which she had chosen on her first arrival in the city, a series of evangelistic meetings were commenced, under the charge of a stranger, and Rebekah, who had had no experience in such meetings, was from the first very powerfully attracted. Indeed, her Christian life received during those three weeks an uplift which went with her through all the after-years. She was regular in her attendance at the meetings, denying herself the pleasure of several fine concerts and lectures in order to do so. At least, it looked like self-denial to Carol McKenzie. He was, perhaps, more nearly vexed with her about this matter than he ever was over anything else. Do you really mean me to understand that you prefer that man's effusion to the finest oratorio we have had this season? He asked half angrily. It is not fair in you to speak of the preacher in that tone, Carol, when you will not go to hear any of his effusions, and you do not need to be told, I trust, that some people go to church for other reasons than to hear any man. But Carol was unquestionably vexed, and went away, letting her feel that he was. She went to the meeting with a sore heart, but among those who arose that night to signify their desire to become Christians was Nancy with her face aglow and all her soul in her eyes, and Rebecca was comforted. Carol, however, felt the stings of remorse over his treatment of her to such a degree that on the next evening he came to her in his most genial mood. I have news for you which, to judge from your present infatuation, will put you into the seventh heaven of satisfaction, he said. What do you say to Williston and myself going to church with you this evening? Think of two such trophies at one time. Will it not be too much? Rebecca was not greatly elated over their going. She divined the reason upon Carol's part at least, and believed that Williston went to get what amusement he could out of it, and that his presence would have a demoralizing effect upon Carol. It was all much as she had feared. Could she have chosen from all the sermons which she had heard from the evangelist? This would have been the last she would have selected for Carol to hear. It was good, but commonplace. Several times in the course of its delivery, she could see Carol's eyes dance over some slip-in grammar or logic. The speaker was an educated man, but under the pressure of extemporary utterance, like many other public speakers, he made grammatical slips, and Carol, who would have scorned on ordinary occasions to ridicule him for this, was quite in the mood to notice it. It was worse when the formal service was concluded. Rebecca found herself hoping that Carol and his companion would depart with the uninterested crowds, but apparently they had no such intention. They settled themselves, prepared to be amused with whatever followed. It suited the leader that evening to ask people forward for prayers, and to ask also that Christian workers would move down the aisles, repeating the invitation. Meantime there was much singing interspersed with earnest exhortations, some of them more earnest than otherwise at least in the estimation of those not deeply interested. Rebecca, watching Carol's face, could see that its amused look gradually changed to one of annoyance, while Williston continued to be mightily pleased with the entire scene. Presently down the aisle came an elderly, plain-looking man, speaking right and left to whoever he chanced to see. A good man he was, but not one who would have been called wise in his manner of trying to win souls. How earnestly Rebecca hoped even prayed that he would pass Carol unnoticed, but he did not. Young man, he said, touching Carol's arm, which was thrown across the end of the seat, have you made your peace with God? No reply, only a fixed, haughty stare, as of one who, but for the proprieties of the place, would have said, What is that to you? Attend to your own affairs. As for Williston, he shook the seat with laughter. The stranger waited a moment, then made a second effort. Won't you come up to the front and let us pray for you? No, I will not. I have no desire to have you pray for me. Williston laughed outright. The elderly man seemed surprised and dismayed. He moved on quickly, and Carol sat erect, his eyes blazing. However, very many accepted the invitation, and the meeting was undoubtedly one of great power. Through it all, Rebecca sat with her heart feeling like lead. She could not just then rejoice over the great harvest. She could not join with the workers in their closing jubilate, bringing in the sheaves. All she could think of was that poor, proud sheaf, who sat erect with folded arms and haughty face, refusing to be garnered. In the large parlor at home, there was a babble of tongues as soon as they entered. In fact, several of the borders had joined them for the homeward walk. So General had become the interest in that part of the city that large numbers of the borders were generally present at the evening meetings. On this particular night the spirit of criticism was in the air, voiced principally by those who called themselves Christians. Such an excitement, they said. So unfortunate! There must have been many sensible persons who were repelled from the whole thing. That was the way with these traveling revivalists, they never knew when to stop. What if there were crowds pushing forward? What would it all amount to? Mere animal excitement in the majority of cases, no doubt. Oh, very probably some of the ignorant were in earnest, but it was a pity for a cultured audience to have to endure such personalities. Rebecca felt weary of them all. She had promised to wait in the border's sitting-room for a messenger from the association-rooms, who was to bring her word that night about a member who was ill, and to take her some little comforts. So thither she escaped as soon as she could, with a bow for Carol as she passed him. But he followed her to the parlor upstairs. It was vacant, and he began the moment he closed the door. Now, Miss Meredith, go ahead. You are vexed with me. You think I disgraced myself to-night, and you long to tell me so. I am ready, and would rather have it out than not. I have nothing to say, replied Rebecca coldly. If your conscience exonerates you for the position you took to-night, you certainly have no cause to care what others think of you. But I do care, and you know that I do. I say it was insufferable in that man to stop and ask me insulting questions to-night before all the people about me, and to set Williston into almost a shout of laughter. Do you justify him in any such proceeding? I shall not take to justify him, as you call it. He may have chosen an unfortunate person to invite to Christ, and he may not have known how to give the invitation, as well as some might. But if I were you, and believed, as you say you do, in Jesus Christ, I do not think I would quarrel with the servant who came to remind me that he was waiting to give me an audience, no matter how crudely put the servant's word might be. It hardly seems like you to attach so much importance to trifles, and to trifle with the important. In point of fact, you know the man did not mean to insult you, did not mean anything but the utmost kindness. Carol's mood seemed to change suddenly. I know it, he said. Hang it all, Miss Meredith! I am ashamed of myself, and I might as well own it. I don't know what possessed me to be such a bear. I had not the slightest intention of saying anything disagreeable. I think it was that everlasting giggling which Williston kept up which angered me. I thought the effect upon him would be anything but helpful. The whole thing, you see, was calculated to offend the taste of people of refinement. The very singing was offensive, and the words mere doggerel some of them. As for all those people surging down the aisle, what good did it do them? The most of them were too much excited to know what they were about. It is the offensive part of the whole thing to which I object, Miss Meredith. You must know that, and not the thing itself. The man was as illogical some of the time as he well could be, but I presume he was an earnest. All I say is that it is most unfortunate that he should allow himself and his audience to be led into such a whirl of excitement that they don't know what they are about. Religion, if it is anything, is a serious matter and not to be considered quietly and dispassionately. Rebecca was very tired and very much disappointed. She had, it may as well be confessed, lost all hope of carols being influenced at this time to acknowledge the claims of Christ, so that, in what she said next, she was influenced solely by the desire to let carol see how fully she understood the weakness of his apologies and excuses. Do you know, I think, that Williston would not have laughed so immoderately tonight if he had not thought he was pleasing you? I believe you have yourself to thank for whatever harm results from his presence at the meeting. He is a weaker man than you in every way, yet you let him influence you to your injury, and you in turn injure him. But never mind that. You have talked about illogical people tonight. Do let me remind you how illogical you are yourself. You object to the excitement there was. I did not see any display of feeling which did not seem to me quite natural and reasonable when one considered the momentousness of the subject and the length of time which it had been neglected. But you objected. You think religion ought to be considered quietly and dispassionately. You think it is a matter of judgment and not of feeling. Now, let me ask you, why do you suppose did not those people take it into consideration in the quietness of the months which have passed before these meetings began? You have seen nothing like excitement here too for, have you? No, please don't interrupt me. I heard you through quietly. I want to be still more logical than that. I want to ask you why you suppose it is that you have not quietly and dispassionately considered this thing and settled it? Why you do not do so tonight, for instance, now and here? This room is quiet enough, and neither you nor I are excited. And you do not need to wait for feeling, for religion. If it is anything, it is not a matter of feeling but of judgment. And your judgment has been convinced for years. So you have told me. Now will you tell me why, instead of venting your indignation on an old man who asked you to begin tonight to serve Christ, you do not quietly and dispassionately do it? The young man had given over all attempt to interrupt her, although for a moment he had been eager to do so. He was looking steadily at her while she spoke. When she ceased, he turned from her and began to walk up and down the room, not excitedly but with slow, thoughtful footsteps. She, meantime, was wondering, now that the excitement of her first feeling was passing, whether by yielding to her desire to speak some plain truths, she had not done harm instead of good. The silence lasted but a few minutes when he came over to her. Miss Meredith, you do not think that I will accept your invitation to begin tonight to serve Christ. In fact, it was hardly an invitation, but a question which you thought I could not answer. What you wished was to show me the folly of my position. I realize it, in part at least, but I am going to surprise you. I mean to do it. This very night, here, in this room, now, I mean to go on my knees to God and ask him to accept me, and I am not doing it because I am excited or because my feelings are enlisted. If he were not excited, his listener was, so utterly unexpected was this thing for which she had been praying all winter, that she could not even hope it was sincere. Carol, she said, her face pale with fear, surely you would not make a mock of such a sacred thing. Miss Meredith, do you believe my father's son would make a mock of anything which deserved respect? I was never more in earnest in my life, and I have not a particle of feeling in the matter. That is, I have no desire to serve God. I have simply the conviction that for a fellow who believes what I do, it is the logical step to take, and I am going to do it. And, Miss Meredith, you may not know it, but there is one curious thing about me, careless fellow as all my friends consider me. When I absolutely make up my mind to a thing, I stand by it. Now I am ready. Will you kneel with me? It was beyond belief, even when Rebecca was on her knees, listening to his words, which were calm and deliberate, an unreserved surrender of himself to the service of Christ, her bewildered brain refused to take in the magnitude of the experience. When he evidently waited for her to pray, she could only repeat the petition which she had been offering for him so long, that he might be brought to see his need of Christ. There was not a word of thanksgiving in it. Just as they arose from their knees, someone knocked at the door, and the messenger for whom Rebecca had been waiting appeared. Good night, said Carol, and left her at once. All through the following day, Rebecca, though outwardly at work as usual, was in reality going over the remarkable scenes of the evening before. Could it be possible that Carol McKenzie had settled the momentous question which he had seemed so far from settling but a half hour before? She recalled the haughty, even angry words which he had spoken to that old man, and her heart failed her. Surely such was not the spirit of one near to the kingdom. They had missed each other in the morning, and Rebecca was detained at dinner-time, and came late, only to find as she had expected, that Carol had dined some time before. But just as she was leaving the house for the evening service, he came springing down the steps. Are you going without me? he asked her brightly. Where have you been all day? I took an early breakfast as there was a matter which I wanted to attend to before college, but you were invisible both at luncheon and dinner. Hello, Williston, are you going to my room? Come with us to church. You don't say you are going to church again? exclaimed that young man in real or affected surprise. They met him just as they reached the sidewalk. Carol linked his arm in Williston's and the two walked on together, the former talking earnestly, while Rebecca dropped behind with some of the boarders. Arrived at church, Carol evidently made an effort to be seated beside Rebecca and succeeded. His face was bright, and he gave the most serious attention to the sermon, which was much stronger than the one of the previous night. In the after-service, the same method was employed which had so jarred Carol, and the same old man came presently down the aisle. He seemed to recognize Carol, for although he looked steadily at him, he was passing without a word when that young man deliberately arose, whispered a few words in his ear, then walked down the aisle beside him, the old man's face radiant the while. You look as though you thought I was incomprehensible, Carol said to Rebecca as they filed out of church. Let me walk along with you and explain. Williston is talking with Miss Andrews. Why, you see, it is like this. I was, as I told you last evening, in solemn earnest. To make a long story into a short one, I have been fighting this thing for a year. Father used to talk with me a good deal last winter, but I did not think I wanted to have anything to do with religion. To be entirely frank with you, I thought it ought to have made my mother a happier woman than it did. She was the sweetest mother, yet her religion never made her happy. She used to cry over it. Sometime, Miss Meredith, I will tell you about my mother. Oh, sometime, thought Rebecca. I will tell you about your mother, and what religion did for her last months on earth. Carol went on eagerly. I thought I was almost resentful over it and rebellious. I know I have resisted all personal efforts for years, and during this past year I have had more calls to the service, I think, than in all my previous life. Last evening something in that man's sermon got hold of me. I am sure I don't know how or why. It was illogical, Miss Meredith, though you did not like my saying so. Some of the points made were very weak, yet the intense earnestness of the man, and the fact that despite his evident want of mental grasp of his subject, it was powerful in his hands, moved me strangely. Not in the line of my feeling you understand, but my intellect. It made me realize somehow as never before that God was behind this thing, and that he was calling me, and that I was a fool to resist his reasonable service when I admitted that it was reasonable, and that only. My very anger with that old gentleman helped to convince me that I was a fool. I was quarreling with him for urging me to do that which I knew I ought to do, and which sometime I really meant to do. To make me appear less idiotic I hid behind the excitement dodge, although my common sense told me that the subject, even as I understood it, was more worthy of rousing excitement than most things which we consider at good form to rave over. Your bit of logic in that line made a climax. Suddenly, while you stood there looking utterly dissatisfied with me, I rose to the privileges of my common sense. I said, this thing is right, and I know it, and I shall surrender. Well, I did, with as much sincerity as I ever did anything in my life. But that wasn't the end of it. I went to my room, resolved to live by principle, and pay no attention to feeling. But I assure you, Miss Meredith, I had feeling enough before the night was over. I have had a very happy day, but part of the night was miserable. I think the question was settled when I knelt there with you, but I know a good deal more about it than I did last night. As for my dear old man, I knew before morning that I should ask him to forgive me, though I did not think then of going forward with him this evening. But when it occurred to me to-night I found that I quite liked to do it. I had not the slightest objection to walking down the aisle with him and asking the people to pray for me. Last night I hated it. To-night it seemed like a privilege. Perhaps you understand something about such sudden changes. I confess I did not. And now, Miss Meredith, I have talked enough about myself. I want to speak of something of much more importance. Will you join me in praying for and working for Williston? He is not so bad a fellow as some think, but he is weak, and—oh, well, he needs Christ. The fact is, he must have him or he is lost. That was the beginning of very precious weeks. Carol had understood himself well when he said if he made up his mind to a thing he stood by it. No more earnest worker for his recently chosen leader could have been found, and among the college students especially he was a power. Before the special meetings closed, large numbers from the university had enlisted for life in Christ's service, and among them was Williston, the weak and wavering, the tool in the hands of that keen-brained young scamp, Chester. A great deal of help and a great deal of forbearance would Williston need, but yet it was apparent, after a few weeks, that the mighty Christ had indeed gotten hold of him. He has no backbone, explained Carol, but if he will only lean on the right one, even that will be all right. And in the course of time it became apparent that God could make not only the wrath of man, but the weakness of man to praise him. Meantime, Spring was coming with rapid strides. They were well into April now, and June was not far away. Mr. McKenzie was growing restive under his many restrictions. The fact is, he wrote to Rebecca, I feel like a hypocrite whenever I write to my boy. He pours out his whole heart to me, and a fair share of it is filled with you. And when I respond I have to confine myself to the merest common places, or to total silence, so far as one theme is concerned. And, in short, have you not more than gained your point? Isn't it time to confess? And Rebecca, who began to realize that there would be a good deal to confess, admitted that perhaps the time had come to begin, but she had her own plan of operations, and held him strictly to it. If he thought it wise, he might now tell Carol of his future intentions, but on no account was he to mention the lady's name or place of abode, that followed which she had hoped and believed would. Carol had many friends, but few confidants. She believed herself to be his chiefest, and so it proved. At the dinner table one evening her heart ached for the boy, it was so evident to her that he had received a blow of some sort. He was much quieter than usual, though quite as thoughtful of others, and he paid almost no attention to the various subjects of conversation, some of which would naturally have interested him. What are you going to do this evening? He asked Rebecca before she left the table. He had come round to her side to speak to her. Nothing, she said promptly, mentally laying aside two possible engagements as she spoke. Then may I have a little visit with you in the small reception room, quite alone? I want to talk with you a little about—well, about myself. And then Rebecca felt in her guilty soul that he had had a letter from his father. She made the little reception room which was held for the convenience of boarders who wished to see their friends with a reasonable degree of privacy, as bright as she could, placing the spring violets which Carol had given her in a vase beside her, and then sat down with her bit of lacework to wait. There was not long waiting. Carol came promptly at the hour named. I think I have what the girls call the blues, he said smiling, and it seemed natural some way to rush to you for comfort. I am glad of that. Am I to know what causes them? I suppose so. Selfishness is without doubt at the root. That surprises me. I have never thought at one of your besetments. Ah, you don't know me. I can be very selfish over my friends. I have only a very few—hosts of acquaintances and friends in a way, but extremely few who belong to the inner circle. I'm going to dash right into the middle of it, Miss Meredith. I never was a fellow who could wait around on the outside of a thing. My father is going to marry again. There, now you know the whole. Carol put a very crooked stitch in her lacework, but her voice was quiet. Well, and you do not like the woman he has chosen? Is that what I am expected to understand? If so, ought I not to know why you object to her? Carol made a movement of impatience. I don't know the woman's name nor where she lives nor the first thing about her, he said passionately, and I don't want to. Haven't I a right to object to every woman on earth under such circumstances? I don't believe I see why. Would you like a woman to come into your home and take your mother's place? There is one in my home, the dearest woman friend I have in the world. I could not, if I were to try, tell you all she has been and is to me. Oh, well, he said, then I am mistaken, you will not understand me." And he spoke like one who resented her position as a personal injury. Yes, she said quietly, I think perhaps I am the very one to understand, for I must tell you that I resented the gift as an intrusion, and would have none of the comfort of it for years. I made my own life and that of others miserable because of it, and only after years learned my grave mistake. Oh, he said again, then he laughed a little, and added that he believed he sympathized with her first condition more than he did with the last. When she asked him how a Christian young man could have such a belief, he burst forth again. I don't think you know anything about it. I have been a great deal to my father, at least I thought I was, and now to have a stranger come between us. Carol, cannot young men be a great deal to their fathers, even when they have mothers living? Miss Meredith, you know that is a different thing. Yes, I know it is, but I want you to remember that your father is not putting you, his son, away and taking another son. He is entering upon an entirely different relation. I am satisfied with the present state of things, said Carol gloomily. Just now you are, but may I ask if you suppose you would always be? Was it your intention to give yourself utterly and for life to your father, never to marry, never to enter into any business which would take you away from him and his home, never to travel to any extent without him? In short, to give yourself up to him and his plans utterly and for ever? Carol looked half-wonderingly at her and laughed. What do you mean? he asked. Is that your idea of a son's duty? No, not in the usual order of things, but it is accepted as a wife's duty as a matter of course, and if you are really satisfied with your father for a life companion and demand nothing else in life but his love and care and society, why, you ought to be ready to meet the ordinary conditions, ought you not? Do you suppose my father is lonely? Why should he not be? Was there ever a wife who went away from her husband for a term of years and planned to be away from him more or less through the long future, as you have done, and in the nature of things you must do? Do you not see, Carol, that both you and I were trying to make our fathers fill other relations to us than those of father and child? I know all about it, for I have done it, and I know also that my second mother is not only my father's helper and comforter in my absence, but, as I told you, the best woman friend I have. He changed his base suddenly. Miss Meredith, I have not been strictly honest with you. Occasionally I have thought of the possibility of my father marrying again, and have tried to make myself feel willing to harbour the thought, and under some circumstances I could do so. You will laugh at me now, but I am going to tell you the whole. When it dawned upon me that he was a comparatively young man, and that my little sister was a mere child, and that he might of necessity be much separated not only from me but from her, I said to myself, if he would only let me choose for him, I could show him a woman who would be all that any sane man could desire. In short, Miss Meredith, it is all up now, but at the risk of being laughed at, I am going to confess that I have plotted and schemed for it and failed. I have begged my father again and again to come here for a visit. I had it in my heart to introduce you to, and it did seem to me that the eternal fitness of things ought to do the rest, but I could never prevail upon him to come, and now it is too late. Rebecca's cheeks were the colour of carnations, but she struggled to laugh, as was expected of her, rather than to give way to tears. You, dear boy, don't you know you would have hated me if any such thing had happened? I should have adored you. Oh, Miss Meredith, think what it might have been to have actually belonged to you, to have felt, when I was away from my father, that he was not desolate because you were with him, to have thought of my little sister as having such love and care as you would have given her. Oh, it is too, too bad! He actually arose and tramped up and down the little room in his intense excitement. This was almost too much for Rebecca's nerves. No such remarkable scheming on the part of the boy had been planned for. It would not do to laugh even hysterically too long, and it would be supremely ridiculous to cry. By degrees Carol's excitement calmed. He was helped by the thought that it was undentlemenly to force his own troubles long upon an outsider. I beg your pardon, he said, coming presently back to his seat near her. I do not intend to be a fool if I can help it, but this thing came upon me suddenly, and I am all broken up. I had an idea that my father was absorbed in business and had not given thought to such matters, and now to find everything settled and me not apparently considered. It was hard, this part of it. Rebecca felt it for him, felt all but ashamed of herself for having planned it, and was therefore prepared to be very sympathetic. This was the first of many talks. Carol, having under the impulse of his first surprise and pain, gone to her with what he called the whole story, felt out liberty to think allowed in her presence as much as he would. And very fortunate was it for him that he had chosen such a friend to think before. The very experience through which she had been helped her wonderfully in understanding him, and she was interested to note what little difference there was, after all, in hearts. Gradually he grew reconciled to the new state of things, or as he heroically expressed it, made up his mind to make the best of what could not be helped, and even interested himself in speculating as to the age and personal appearance of his father's choice. That the stranger was his father's choice was a stronghold which Rebecca took great pains to keep before the boy. It ought to be such a steady support and comfort to him to remember that his father could not but choose wisely. Occasionally, however, after some of her best efforts, the boy would turn away from her with something like a groan and an outburst which began with, oh, if he only, and then would suddenly stop. At such times there was a sweet pain in Rebecca's heart. The pain was for the poor boy, whom she loved almost with a mother's yearning, and the sweetness was because she felt assured that the contemplated sentence would have been, oh, if he had only chosen you. But Mr. Mackenzie, far away from these experiences, was growing restive to an alarming degree. He really owed it to the boy to accept one of his many invitations and spend a day or two with him. He had not been so long without visiting him since Carol first went away from home when he was almost a little boy. There was no reason now why all secrecy should not come to an end. So Rebecca, who had thought with no little anxiety about the best way of acquainting Carol with the truth, prepared to carry out the last part of her program. She had one musical friend, a resident in the city, with whom she would have spent much time, had she not been so closely employed otherwise. This friend was intimate enough to be taken into confidence and allowed to assist in the final scene. Accordingly, the young woman was better prepared than Carol could have imagined possible for his air of suppressed excitement when he told her one evening at the dinner table that he must see her for a few minutes as soon as possible. Yes, he had great news. His father was coming to see him at last, was coming to-morrow. But there was more than that. What did Miss Meredith think? She was actually in this city, spending the time with a friend out at Hampton Park, and his father wanted him to go on that very first evening and call upon her. Truth to tell, Carol, who had before this made many promises about good behavior, was much dismayed at the thought of the approaching ordeal. His father might have spent the first evening with him, he declared, in his unreasonableness, or he might have gone alone to call upon her and let him do it some other time. It took all Rebekah's influence to reason him into admitting his unreasonableness, and at the last he well nigh upset everything by suddenly insisting that she join them and make the acquaintance of the stranger. He had as good a right to have a stranger friend as his father had, he grumbled, and to take her along if he wanted to. But he laughed at Rebekah's utterly dismayed face, and assured her that he wasn't quite an idiot, although he knew he acted like one. Still, he was genuinely annoyed when he learned that Rebekah would not be at home the next day. She was going out to make a long-promised visit to a friend. He wanted her especially, he said. In the first place he wanted his father to see her, and be filled with regrets. This last in a serial comic tone which he could affect on occasion. But above all he needed her to strengthen him up for the ordeal. I know I shall hate her in spite of all my resolutions. Was his last doleful comment? As for Rebekah's part in the day's preparations, they may perhaps be imagined. Her friend lived in one of the handsome suburbs in a pretty home furnished with quiet, refined taste. On this particular evening she was quite alone, her father having a business engagement that would keep him late, and her brothers being out of town. The back parlor had been given over to Rebekah's use, and here she, in the prettiest dress her slender purse could manage and her dainty taste evolve, sat waiting for calls. Miss Meredith expects some friends to call upon her, had been the word to the servant. If I am not down when they arrive, take them directly to the back parlor. She will be there to receive them. So in process of time two cards were brought to Rebekah, Mr. Dean Mackenzie and Mr. Carol Mackenzie, the gentlemen following their cards so promptly that the servant hardly had time to announce them. At least Mr. Mackenzie was prompt. Carol lingered a moment, ostensibly to look at a picture in the front parlor as his father passed behind the portier, but really to give the father a chance to greet his friend. A moment more, and he heard his name. I want to present to you my son Carol. And Carol came swiftly from the front room that his father might not be embarrassed by his tardiness, and stood face to face with Rebekah. For a single instant he stood as if transfixed. Then his quick brain taking in enough of the situation, he cried out, oh my dearest! And was at her side, clasping her hands, kissing them, laughing over them, all but crying over them in his intense excitement and joy. Really! said Mr. Mackenzie as he looked on, half astonished and wholly touched, until the amusing side of the picture began to press upon him. I thought I was to introduce you to, it looks the rather as though somebody was needed to introduce me. The only other event of special interest which occurred that spring was the fact that Nancy went to Dr. Meredith as second girl and general helper. Nancy, whom the religion of Jesus Christ had transformed, of whom Mr. Mackenzie said the very fashion of her countenance was altered. Nancy, who had such a debt of gratitude to pay to Rebekah that she would have gladly gone daily down on her knees to serve her, and who, hearing with whom Miss Lillian was staying, began to long exceedingly, since she could not serve Rebekah to serve some of her friends. A treasure she proved to Mrs. Meredith, who, in view of her small charge and of the events of the coming June, had her hands very full. The first of May Rebekah went home herself, her second term of lessons with Professor Glick being completed. Circumstances were such that she was obliged positively to refuse to play at his concert in June, whereat he was aggrieved and considered her somewhat ungrateful, after all the extra care he had bestowed upon her and the pride he had taken in her, until he received those long delayed cards. Dr. and Mrs. John Ellis Meredith request the pleasure, etc., then he understood. But before that date many details had been arranged. Is Nancy to make one of our household? wrote Mr. McKenzie. I have quite a long and very well executed letter from her, begging me to intercede to that effect. Lillian seems to be fond of her, but of course I leave all such matters to you. I do not even know whether you like to retain Mrs. Barnett. She also is begging that I will learn, if possible, whether her services will be agreeable, and she signifies her own hearty pleasure in view of such a possibility. If you care to send her word, please do so. Or if you prefer to leave all these details until we are fairly settled, of course you will do that. Then Rebekah gave herself time to think of some of the startling contrasts in her life, tried to imagine herself at Carol Place, with Mrs. Barnett bowing to her and waiting for orders, and Nancy speaking of her as the Mrs., though Nancy was learning in these days to use the language which belongs to good breeding. The prospective mistress decided that some things must be left until she had learned how to adjust herself to new environments, but for the present she would as soon have thought of dismissing herself as Mrs. Barnett, and she made Nancy's cheeks red for the day by telling her that the dress she was wearing would do nicely for mornings at Carol Place. It was a perfect June day when Rebekah took her next journey under the care of Mr. Dean McKenzie. This time he gave her openly and constantly the most thoughtful attention and care, and the contrast between this and that other journey which she had taken to the same city when alone and desolate she went in search of madame and employment was almost too much for her composure. It was probably well for both Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie that Carol and Lillian were their traveling companions. It had been decided that, June though it was, the family should return to Carol Place for several weeks to arrange for a somewhat extended trip which Mr. and Mrs. McKenzie were to take as soon as certain matters of business could be settled. During their absence Lillian was to return to the care of her dear Dr. Grandma and Grandpa, a fact which stayed her tears at parting with them and made their own hearts less heavy. As for Carol, his satisfaction in all the arrangements could not, it seemed to him, have been greater. Intimate as his friendship had been with Rebekah all winter, after that first bewildering evening when he went to be introduced to her as his father's prospective wife, their relations had grown more close and confidential. Long evenings they had spent together, during which Rebekah went over for him every little detail which she could recall of her acquaintance with his mother, except indeed that dark place in her life which alone had made such intimacy as theirs possible. For that she had encouraged the dead mother to feel that her boy need never know about, and certainly he would not learn the story from her. But all the rest, the gentle words and ways, the loving mention of his name, the constant reference to him as the dear son about whom the love of her heart centered, all these Rebekah remembered, and went over again and again for the boy who had mourned as perhaps few do, the young and beautiful mother about whom after all he knew so little. It seemed wonderful to him and beautiful that Rebekah should have known and loved and cared for his mother, should have been with her during those last days, should have actually received from her lips messages for him which she had been treasuring until the best time should come for him to receive them. All together those last weeks which Rebekah spent in the boarding-house, giving what attention she might to music during the day, but giving nearly every evening to Carol, they had grown to know and love each other almost as mother and son, even before the formal relation was established. During this homeward journey Mr. McKenzie watched the boy bend over Rebekah and murmur laughingly some confidence in her ear, and noted the look of mutual understanding which the two exchanged, and said, as Carol went back to Lilian, my boy brought me his Bible this morning with these words underscored, doth not he see my ways and number all my steps. He said that it seemed to him as though the Lord Jesus Christ had chosen his ways for him in a very peculiar manner this last year, led him step by step up to his highest good, and that among the greatest blessings that his life had ever known, he was sure he would count you, and his father said, amen. They were precious words for me to hear, Rebekah. Be sure that they were precious words to her. She was in her own room at twelve hundred Carol Place. It was a lovely summer morning, their first at home, and they were ready to go down to breakfast. Lilian, in spotless white, arrayed by Nancy's own careful hand, had just fluttered in to receive what she called her Dressed Up Kisses. Truth to tell, she had received half a dozen kisses already that morning from both father and mother. Then she had departed to see if Carol was ready. Mr. Mackenzie had been to the conservatory, and was fastening a spray of violets just where he wanted them on his wife's dress, when she said, Oh, Dean, one thing I forgot to ask about. Shall we have prayers before or after breakfast? Prayers? He repeated, half bewildered. You and I, do you mean? And the family, of course, dear, family worship, you know? Oh, yes, assuredly, I know that families have such a service, some of them, but I am not accustomed to it, you remember. But you will establish the custom at once, dear, will you not? I had not thought of it. That may seem strange to you, he added, after a moment, turning to her with a frank smile. But it really had not once occurred to me. Now that you speak of it, of course, we are a Christian household. It is eminently proper. But, Rebecca, would it not be as well to wait until we return in the fall and are fully established as a family? We shall be here for so short a time now. She shook her head. We are a family now, Dean, as much as we shall be in the fall, and the way one begins is so often the way in which one continues. I should not like to set up my home, even for three weeks, without a family altar. Moreover, Carol may not be able to be with us in the fall, if the university should open before we should get settled here. And he is a man now, you know, in some matters, and should take his turn in leading the devotions in his father's house. You will find him quite willing, I think, to do so, and I am sure it will be a joy to you to hear him. After we established the custom of morning prayers in the boarding-house on Sunday mornings, which were the only mornings when we could gather any sort of regularity at an appointed hour, Carol led without the slightest hesitation whenever called upon, although he was the youngest of them all. Mr. McKenzie flushed slightly, then laughed as he said, I am not sure but the son has more courage than the father. He has not so many years of habit to overcome. But Rebecca, do not think me unwilling. Now that you call my attention to it, I know, of course, that it is the only right way to begin. I like that idea of Carol taking his turn. And, dear wife, I shall like another one to take her turn also. It is to be family worship, you know, so the family should divide the duties. Shall there be three of us who will in turn lead the service? The ready color glowed in Rebecca's cheeks. This was unexpected. She could certainly say that she had never been accustomed to anything of the kind. Still, did she like to say that she could not? Her husband waited for his answer. I know you can pray, he said at last significantly. And it seems eminently proper that the one who taught both father and son to pray should join us in this, will you? It seems hard to me, she said. I scarcely know why. Certainly I am not afraid of you nor of Carol nor Lillian. I have prayed before you each, but taken collectively. And then there are Mrs. Barnett and Nancy and the others. Oh, that is unworthy of me. I will not let myself be a coward on this of all subjects. But then, Dean, it is not the usual custom, you know. Still, after all, why should not women join audibly in the family prayer as well as in the family conversation? Dean, I will. Thank you, he said, smiling. Then let us have prayers at once. I have found that there is nothing like beginning immediately a thing which one dreads a little. As they went downstairs toward the library, he added, I ought to have established the custom during the winter. It did not once occur to me that I was the head of a household. Nothing is planer than that I have needed you all winter to help me see clearly the right steps to take. If I needed you half as much as I wanted you, Rebecca, my need was sore. She had no words with which to answer him. In truth, her lips were too tremulous to frame words. Perhaps you cannot think what it was to her to be sure that while life lasted she would be wanted. But there was no chance for reply. They were in the library now where Rebecca had not been since she went to receive her directions for the day. Carol and Lillian were there, and while Rebecca moved toward them the master of the house touched his bell. Rodgers, he said, as that faithful attendant appeared, calm as his Barnett and the others and say to them that we will have family worship in the library at once. Yes, sir, said Rodgers, and disappeared. And Rebecca said to herself that the master of the house spoke and acted precisely as though family worship had been the custom in the Mackenzie households from time immemorial.