Lois was inclined now to think it might be quite as well if somethinghindered Mr. Dillwyn's second visit. She did not wonder at Madge'sevident fascination; she had felt the same herself long ago, and inconnection with other people; the charm of good breeding and graciousmanners, and the habit of the world, even apart from knowledge andcultivation and the art of conversation. Yes, Mr. Dillwyn was a goodspecimen of this sort of attraction; and for a moment Lois'simagination recalled that day's two walks in the rain; then she shookoff the impression. Two poor Shampuashuh girls were not likely to havemuch to do with that sort of society, and – it was best they should not.It would be just as well if Mr. Dillwyn was hindered from coming again.

But he came. A month had passed; it was the beginning of December whenhe knocked next at the door, and cold and grey and cloudy and windy asit is December's character in certain moods to be. The reception he gotwas hearty in proportion; fires were larger, the table even morehospitably spread; Mrs. Barclay even more cordial, and the familyatmosphere not less genial. Nevertheless the visit, for Mr. Dillwyn'sspecial ends, was hardly satisfactory. He could get no private speechwith Lois. She was always "busy;" and at meal-times it was obviouslyimpossible, and would have been impolitic, to pay any particularattention to her. Philip did not attempt it. He talked rather to everyone else; made himself delightful company; but groaned in secret.

"Cannot you make some excuse for getting her in here?" he asked Mrs.

Barclay at evening.

"Not without her sister."

"With her sister, then."

"They are very busy just now preparing some thing they call 'applebutter.' It's unlucky, Philip. I am very sorry. I always told you yourway looked to me intricate."

Fortune favoured him, however, in an unexpected way. After a day passedin much inward impatience, for he had not got a word with Lois, and hehad no excuse for prolonging his stay beyond the next day, as they satat supper, the door opened, and in came two ladies. Mr. Dillwyn wasformally presented to one of them as to "my aunt, Mrs. Marx;" the otherwas named as "Mrs. Seelye." The latter was a neat, brisk little body, with a capable air and a mien of business; all whose words came out asif they had been nicely picked and squared, and sorted and packed, andserved in order.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Armadale" she began, in a chirruping littlevoice. Indeed, her whole air was that of a notable little hen lookingafter her chickens. Charity assured her it was no interruption.

"Mrs. Seelye and I had our tea hours ago," said Mrs. Marx. "I hadmuffins for her, and we ate all we could then. We don't want no morenow. We're on business."

"Yes," said Mrs. Seelye. "Mrs. Marx and I, we've got to see everybody, pretty much; and there ain't much time to do it in; so you see we can'tchoose, and we just come here to see what you'll do for us."

"What do you want us to do for you, Mrs. Seelye?" Lois asked.

"Well, I don't know; only all you can. We want your counsel, and thenyour help. Mr. Seelye he said, Go to the Lothrop girls first. I didn'tcome first, 'cause there was somebody else on my way here; but thisis our fourth call, ain't it, Mrs. Marx?"

"I thought I'd never get you away from No. 3," was the answer.

"They were very much interested, – and I wanted to make them allunderstand – it was important that they should all understand – "

"And there are different ways of understanin'," added Mrs. Marx; "andthere are a good many of 'em – the Hicks's, I mean; and so, when wethought we'd got it all right with one, we found somebody else was in afog; and then he had to be fetched out."

"But we are all in a fog," said Madge, laughing. "What are you comingto? and what are we to understand?"

"We have a little plan," said Mrs. Seelye.

"It'll be a big one, before we get through with it," added hercoadjutor. "Nobody'll be frightened here if you call it a big one tostart with, Mrs. Seelye. I like to look things in the face."

"So do we," said Mrs. Armadale, with a kind of grim humour, – "if youwill give us a chance."

"Well, it's about the children," said Mrs. Seelye.

"Christmas – " added Mrs. Marx.

"Be quiet, Anne," said her mother. "Go on, Mrs. Seelye. Whose children?"

"I might say, they are all Mr. Seelye's children," said the littlelady, laughing; "and so they are in a way, as they are all belonging tohis church. He feels he is responsible for the care of 'em, and hedon't want to lose 'em. And that's what it's all about, and how theplan came up."

"How's he goin' to lose 'em?" Mrs. Armadale asked, beginning now toknit again.

"Well, you see the other church is makin' great efforts; and they'regoin' to have a tree."

"What sort of a tree? and what do they want a tree for?"

"Why, a fir tree!" – and, "Why, a Christmas tree!" cried the two ladieswho advocated the "plan," both in a breath.

"Mother don't know about that," Mrs. Marx went on. "It's a new fashion, mother, – come up since your day. They have a green tree, planted in atub, and hung with all sorts of things to make it look pretty; littlecandles especially; and at night they light it up; and the children aretickled to death with it."

"In-doors?"

"Why, of course in-doors. Couldn't be out-of-doors, in the snow."

"I didn't know," said the old lady; "I don't understand the newfashions. I should think they would burn up the house, if it'sin-doors."

"O no, no danger," explained Mrs. Seelye. "They make them wonderfullypretty, with the branches all hung full with glass balls, and candles, and ribbands, and gilt toys, and papers of sugar plums – cornucopia, youknow; and dolls, and tops, and jacks, and trumpets, and whips, andeverything you can think of, – till it is as full as it can be, and thebranches hang down with the weight; and it looks like a fairy tree; andthen the heavy presents lie at the foot round about and cover the tub."

"I should think the children would be delighted," said Madge.

"I don't believe it's as much fun as Santa Claus and the stocking,"said Lois.

"No, nor I," said Mrs. Barclay.

"But we have nothing to do with the children's stockings," said Mrs.Seelye. "They may hang up as many as they like. That's at home. This isin the church."

"O, in the church! I thought you said it was in the house – in people'shouses," said Charity.

"So it is; but this tree is to be in the church."

"What tree?"

"La! how stupid you are, Charity," exclaimed her aunt. "Didn't Mrs.

Seelye tell you? – the tree the other church are gettin' up."

"Oh – " said Charity. "Well, you can't hinder 'em, as I see."

"Don't want to hinder 'em! What should we hinder 'em for? But we don'twant 'em to get all our chil'en away; that's what we're lookin' at."

"Do you think they'd go?"

"Mr. Seelye's afraid it'll thin off the school dreadful," said Mr.

Seelye's helpmate.

"They're safe to go," added Mrs. Marx. "Ask children to step in and seefairyland, and why shouldn't they go? I'd go if I was they. All therest of the year it ain't fairyland in Shampuashuh. I'd go fast enough."

"Then I don't see what you are goin' to do about it," said Charity,"but to sit down and count your chickens that are left."

"That's what we came to tell you," said the minister's wife.

"Well, tell," said Charity. "You haven't told yet, only what the otherchurch is going to do."

"Well, we thought the only way was for us to do somethin' too."

"Only not another tree," said Lois. "Not that, for pity's sake."

"Why not?" asked the little minister's wife, with an air of beingsomewhat taken aback. "Why haven't we as good a right to have a tree asthey have?"

"Right, if you like," said Lois; "but right isn't all."

"Go on, and let's hear your wisdom, Lois," said her aunt. "I s'poseyou'll say first, we can't do it."

"We can do it, perhaps," said Lois; "but, aunt Anne, it would make badfeeling."

"That's not our look-out," rejoined Mrs. Marx. "We haven't any badfeeling."

"No, not in the least," added Mrs. Seelye. "We only want to give ourchildren as good a time as the others have. That's right."

"'Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory,'" Mrs. Armadale'svoice was here heard to say.

"Yes, I know, mother, you have old-fashioned ideas," said Mrs. Marx;"but the world ain't as it used to be when you was a girl. Noweverybody's puttin' steam on; and churches and Sunday schools as wellas all the rest. We have organs, and choirs, and concerts, andcelebrations, and fairs, and festivals; and if we don't go with thecrowd, they'll leave us behind, you see."

"I don't believe in it all!" said Mrs. Armadale.

"Well, mother, we've got to take the world as we find it. Now thechildren all through the village are all agog with the story of whatthe yellow church is goin' to do; and if the white church don't dosomethin', they'll all run t'other way – that you may depend on.Children are children."

"I sometimes think the grown folks are children," said the old lady.

"Well, we ought to be children," said Mrs. Seelye; "I am sure we allknow that. But Mr. Seelye thought this was the only thing we could do."

"There comes in the second difficulty, Mrs. Seelye," said Lois. "Wecannot do it."

"I don't see why we cannot. We've as good a place for it, quite."

"I mean, we cannot do it satisfactorily. It will not be the same thing.

We cannot raise the money. Don't it take a good deal?"

"Well, it takes considerable. But I think, if we all try, we can scareit up somehow."

Lois shook her head. "The other church is richer than we are," she said.

"That's a fact," said Charity.

Mrs. Seelye hesitated. "I don't know," she said, – "they have one or tworich men. Mr. Georges – "

"O, and Mr. Flare," cried Madge, "and Buck, and Setterdown; and the

Ropers and the Magnuses."

"Yes," said Mrs. Seelye; "but we have more people, and there's none of'em to call poor. If we get 'em interested – and those we have spoken toare very much taken with the plan – very much; I think it would be agreat disappointment now if we were to stop; and the children have gottalking about it. I think we can do it; and it would be a very goodthing for the whole church, to get 'em interested."

"You can always get people interested in play," said Mrs. Armadale.

"What you want, is to get 'em interested in work."

"There'll be a good deal of work about this, before it's over," saidMrs. Seelye, with a pleased chuckle. "And I think, when they get theirpride up, the money will be coming."

Mrs. Marx made a grimace, but said nothing.

"'When pride cometh, than cometh shame,'" said Mrs. Armadale quietly.

"O yes, some sorts of pride," said the little minister's wife briskly;"but I mean a proper sort. We don't want to let our church go down, andwe don't want to have our Sunday school thinned out; and I can tellyou, where the children go, there the fathers and mothers will begoing, next thing."

"What do you propose to do?" said Lois. "We have not fairly heard yet."

"Well, we thought we'd have some sort of celebration, and give theschool a jolly time somehow. We'd dress up the church handsomely withevergreens; and have it well lighted; and then, we would have aChristmas tree if we could. Or, if we couldn't, then we'd have a realgood hot supper, and give the children presents. But I'm afraid, if wedon't have a tree, they'll all run off to the other church; and I thinkthey're going already, so as to get asked. Mr. Seelye said theattendance was real thin last Sabbath."

There followed an animated discussion of the whole subject, with everypoint brought up again, and again and again. The talkers were, for themost part, Charity and Madge, with the two ladies who had come in; Mrs.Armadale rarely throwing in a word, which always seemed to have adisturbing power; and things were taken up and gone over anew to getrid of the disturbance. Lois sat silent and played with her spoon. Mrs.Barclay and Philip listened with grave amusement.

"Well, I can't sit here all night," said Charity at last, rising frombehind her tea-board. "Madge and Lois, – just jump up and put away thethings, won't you; and hand me up the knives and plates. Don't troubleyourself, Mrs. Barclay. If other folks in the village are as busy as Iam, you'll come short home for your Christmas work, Mrs. Seelye."

"It's the busy people always that help," said the little ladypropitiatingly.

"That's a fact; but I don't see no end o' this to take hold of. Youhain't got the money; and if you had it, you don't know what you want; and if you did know, it ain't in Shampuashuh; and I don't see who is togo to New York or New Haven, shopping for you. And if you had it, whoknows how to fix a Christmas tree? Not a soul in our church."

Mrs. Barclay and her guest withdrew at this point of the discussion.But later, when the visitors were gone, she opened the door of herroom, and said,

"Madge and Lois, can you come in here for a few minutes? It isbusiness."

The two girls came in, Madge a little eagerly; Lois, Mrs. Barclayfancied, with a manner of some reserve.

"Mr. Dillwyn has something to suggest," she began, "about this plan wehave heard talked over; that is, if you care about it's being carriedinto execution."

"I care, of course," said Madge. "If it is to be done, I think it willbe great fun."

"If it is to be done," Lois repeated. "Grandmother does not approve ofit; and I always think, what she does not like, I must not like."

"Always?" asked Mr. Dillwyn.

"I try to have it always. Grandmother thinks that the way – the bestway – to keep a Sunday school together, is to make the lessonsinteresting."

"I am sure she is right!" said Mr. Dillwyn.

"But to the point," said Mrs. Barclay. "Lois, they will do this thing,I can see. The question now is, do you care whether it is done ill orwell?"

"Certainly! If it is done, I should wish it to be as well done aspossible. Failure is more than failure."

"How about ways and means?"

"Money? O, if the people all set their hearts on it, they could do itwell enough. But they are slow to take hold of anything out of thecommon run they are accustomed to. The wheels go in ruts atShampuashuh."

"Shampuashuh is not the only place," said Philip. "Then will you let anoutsider help?"

"Help? We would be very glad of help," said Madge; but Lois remarked,

"I think the church ought to do it themselves, if they want to do it."

"Well, hear my plan," said Mr. Dillwyn. "I think you objected to tworival trees?"

"I object to rival anythings," said Lois; "in church mattersespecially."

"Then I propose that no tree be set up, but instead, that you let Santa

Claus come in with his sledge."

"Santa Claus!" cried Lois. "Who would be Santa Claus?"

"An old man in a white mantle, his head and beard covered with snow andfringed with icicles; his dress of fur; his sledge a large one, andwell heaped up with things to delight the children. What do you think?"

Madge's colour rose, and Lois's eye took a sparkle; both were silent.

Then Madge spoke.

"I don't see how that plan could be carried out, any more than theother. It is a great deal better, it is magnificent; but it is agreat deal too magnificent for Shampuashuh."

"Why so?"

"Nobody here knows how to do it."

"I know how."

"You! O but, – that would be too much – "

"All you have to do is to get the other things ready, and let it beknown that at the proper time Santa Claus will appear, with awell-furnished sled. Sharp on time."

"Well-furnished! – but there again – I don't believe we can raise moneyenough for that."

"How much money?" asked Dillwyn, with an amused smile.

"O, I can't tell – I suppose a hundred dollars at least."

"I have as much as that lying useless – it may just as well do somegood. It never was heard that anybody but Santa Claus furnished his ownsled. If you will allow me, I will take care of that."

"How splendid!" cried Madge. "But it is too much; it wouldn't be rightfor us to let you do all that for a church that is nothing to you."

"On the contrary, you ought to encourage me in my first endeavours tomake myself of some use in the world. Miss Madge, I have never, so far, done a bit of good in my life."

"O, Mr. Dillwyn! I cannot believe that. People do not grow useful soall of a sudden, without practice," said Madge, hitting a great generaltruth.

"It is a fact, however," said he, half lightly, and yet evidentlymeaning what he said. "I have lived thirty-two years in theworld – nearly thirty-three – without making my life of the least use toanybody so far as I know. Do you wonder that I seize a chance?"

Lois's eyes were suddenly lifted, and then as suddenly lowered; she didnot speak.

"I can read that," he said laughingly, for his eyes had caught theglance. "You mean, if I am so eager for chances, I might make them!Miss Lois, I do not know how."

"Come, Philip," said Mrs. Barclay, "you are making your characterunnecessarily bad. I know you better than that. Think what you havedone for me."

"I beg your pardon," said he. "Think what you have done for me. Thatscore cannot be reckoned to my favour. Have no scruples, Miss Madge, about employing me. Though I believe Miss Lois thinks the good of thisundertaking a doubtful one. How many children does your school number?"

"All together, – and they would be sure for once to be alltogether! – there are a hundred and fifty."

"Have you the names?"

"O, certainly."

"And ages – proximately?"

"Yes, that too."

"And you know something, I suppose, about many of them; something abouttheir families and conditions?"

"About all of them?" said Madge. "Yes, indeed we do."

"Till Mrs. Barclay came, you must understand," put in Lois here, "wehad nothing, or not much, to study besides Shampuashuh; so we studiedthat."

"And since Mrs. Barclay came? – " asked Philip.

"O, Mrs. Barclay has been opening one door after another of knowledge, and we have been peeping in."

"And what special door offers most attraction to your view, of themall?"

"I don't know. I think, perhaps, for me, geology and mineralogy; butalmost every one helps in the study of the Bible."

"O, do they!" said Dillwyn somewhat dryly.

"I like music best," said Madge.

"But that is not a door into knowledge," objected Lois.

"I meant, of all the doors Mrs. Barclay has opened to us."

"Mrs. Barclay is a favoured person."

"It is we that are favoured," said Madge. "Our life is a differentthing since she came. We hope she will never go away." Then Madgecoloured, with some sudden thought, and she went back to the formersubject. "Why do you ask about the children's ages and all that, Mr.Dillwyn?"

"I was thinking – When a thing is to be done, I like to do it well. Itoccurred to me, that as Santa Claus must have something on his sledgefor each one, it might be good, if possible, to secure some adaptationor fitness in the gift. Those who would like books should have books, and the right books; and playthings had better not go astray, if we canhelp it; and perhaps the poorer children would be better for articlesof clothing. – I am only throwing out hints."

"Capital hints!" said Lois. "You mean, if we can tell what would begood for each one – I think we can, pretty nearly. But there are fewpoor people in Shampuashuh, Mr. Dillwyn."

"Shampuashuh is a happy place."

"This plan will give you an immensity of work, Mr. Dillwyn."

"What then?"

"I have scruples. It is not fair to let you do it. What is Shampuashuhto you?"

"It might be difficult to make that computation," said Mr. Dillwyndryly. "Have no scruples, Miss Lois. As I told you, I have nothingbetter to do with myself. If you can make me useful, it will be a rarechance."

"But there are plenty of other things to do, Mr. Dillwyn," said Lois.

He gave her only a glance and smile by way of answer, and plungedimmediately into the business question with Madge. Lois sat by, silentand wondering, till all was settled that could be settled that evening, and she and Madge went back to the other room.

CHAPTER XXXVII
AN OYSTER SUPPER

"Hurrah!" cried Madge, but softly – "Now it will go! Mother! what do youthink? Guess, Charity! Mr. Dillwyn is going to take our Sunday schoolcelebration on himself; he's going to do it; and we're to have, not astupid Christmas tree, but Santa Claus and his sled; and he'll be SantaClaus! Won't it be fun?"

"Who'll be Santa Claus?" said Charity, looking stupefied.

"Mr. Dillwyn. In fact, he'll be Santa Claus and his sled too; he'll dothe whole thing. All we have got to do is to dress the children andourselves, and light up the church."

"Will the committees like that?"

"Like it? Of course they will! Like it, indeed! Don't you see it willsave them all expense? They'll have nothing to do but dress up andlight up."

"And warm up too, I hope. What makes Mr. Dillwyn do all that? I don'tjust make out."

"I'll tell you," said Madge, shaking her finger at the othersimpressively. "He's after Mrs. Barclay. So this gives him a chance tocome here again, don't you see?"

"After Mrs. Barclay?" repeated Charity. "I want to know!"

"I don't believe it," said Lois. "She is too old for him."

"She's not old," said Madge. "And he is no chicken, my dear. You'llsee. It's she he's after. He's coming next time as Santa Claus, that'sall. And we have got to make out a list of things – things forpresents, – for every individual girl and boy in the Sunday school; there's a job for you. Santa Claus will want a big sled."

"Who is going to do what?" inquired Mrs. Armadale here. "I don'tunderstand, you speak so fast, children."

"Mother, instead of a Christmas tree, we are going to have Santa Clausand his sled; and the sled is to be heaped full of presents for all thechildren; and Mr. Dillwyn is going to do it, and get the presents, andbe Santa Claus himself."

"How, be Santa Claus?"

"Why, he will dress up like Santa Claus, and come in with his sled."

"Where?"

"In the church, grandmother; there is no other place. The other churchhave their Sunday-school room you know; but we have none."

"They are going to have their tree in the church, though," saidCharity; "they reckon the Sunday-school room won't be big enough tohold all the folks."

"Are they going to turn the church into a playhouse?" Mrs. Armadaleasked.

"It's for the sake of the church and the school, you know, mother.Santa Claus will come in with his sled and give his presents, – that isall. At least, that is all the play there will be."

"What else will there be?"

"O, there'll be singing, grandma," said Madge; "hymns and carols andsuch things, that the children will sing; and speeches and prayers, Isuppose."

"The church used to be God's house, in my day," said the old lady, witha concerned face, looking up from her knitting, while her fingers wenton with their work as busily as ever.

"They don't mean it for anything else, grandmother," said Madge. "It'sall for the sake of the school."

"Maybe they think so," the old lady answered.

"What else, mother? what else should it be?"

But this she did not answer.

"What's Mr. Dillwyn got to do with it?" she asked presently.

"He's going to help," said Madge. "It's nothing but kindness. Hesupposes it is something good to do, and he says he'd like to beuseful."

"He hain't no idea how," said Mrs. Armadale, "Poor creatur'! You cantell him, it ain't the Lord's work he's doin'."

"But we cannot tell him that, mother," said Lois.

"If the people want to have this celebration, – and they will, – hadn'twe better make it a good one? Is it really a bad thing?"

"The devil's ways never help no one to heaven, child, not if they gosingin' hymns all the way."

"But, mother!" cried Madge. "Mr. Dillwyn ain't a Christian, maybe, buthe ain't as bad as that."

"I didn't mean Mr. Dillwyn, dear, nor no one else. I meant theatrework."

"Santa Claus, mother?"

"It's actin', ain't it?"

The girls looked at each other.

"There's very little of anything like acting about it," Lois said.

"'Make straight paths for your feet'!" said Mrs. Armadale, rising to goto bed. "'Make straight paths for your feet,' children. Straight waysis the shortest too. If the chil'en that don't love their teacherswants to go to the yellow church, let 'em go. I'd rather have the Lordin a little school, than Santa Claus in a big one."

She was leaving the room, but the girls stayed her and begged to knowwhat they should do in the matter of the lists they were engaged toprepare for Mr. Dillwyn.

"You must do what you think best," she said. "Only don't be mixed upwith it all any more than you can help, Lois."

Why did the name of one child come to her lips and not the other? Didthe old lady's affection, or natural acuteness, discern that Mr.Dillwyn was not drawn to Shampuashuh by any particular admiration ofhis friend Mrs. Barclay? Had she some of that preternatural intuition, plain old country woman though she was, which makes a woman see theinvisible and hear the inaudible? which serves as one of the naturalmeans of defence granted to the weaker creatures. I do not know; I donot think she knew; however, the warning was given, and not on thatoccasion alone. And as Lois heeded all her grandmother's admonitions, although in this case without the most remote perception of thispossible ground to them, it followed that Mr. Dillwyn gained less byhis motion than he had hoped and anticipated.

The scheme went forward, hailed by the whole community belonging to thewhite church, with the single exception of Mrs. Armadale. It wentforward and was brought to a successful termination. I might say, atriumphant termination; only the triumph was not for Mr. Dillwyn, ornot in the line where he wanted it. He did his part admirably. A betterSanta Claus was never seen, nor a better filled sled. And genialpleasantness, and wise management, and cool generalship, and fun andkindness, were never better represented. So it was all through theconsultations and arrangements that preceded the festival, as well ason the grand occasion itself; and Shampuashuh will long remember thetime with wonder and exultation; but it was Madge who was Mr. Dillwyn'scoadjutor and fellow-counsellor. It was Madge and Mrs. Barclay whohelped him in all the work of preparing and ticketing the parcels forthe sled; as well as in the prior deliberations as to what the parcelsshould be. Madge seemed to be the one at hand always to answer aquestion. Madge went with him to the church; and in general, Lois, though sympathizing and curious, and interested and amused, was verymuch out of the play. Not so entirely as to make the fact striking; only enough to leave Mr. Dillwyn disappointed and tantalized.

I am not going into a description of the festival and the show. Thechildren sang; the minister made a speech to them, not ten consecutivewords of which were listened to by three-quarters of the people. Thechurch was filled with men, women, and children; the walls were hungwith festoons and wreaths, and emblazoned with mottoes; the anthems andcarols followed each other till the last thread of patience in thewaiting crowd gave way. And at last came what they were waitingfor – Santa Claus, all fur robes and snow and icicles, dragging afterhim a sledge that looked like a small mountain with the heap ofarticles piled and packed upon it. And then followed a very busy anddelightful hour and a half, during which the business was – thedistribution of pleasure. It was such warm work for Santa Claus, thatat the time he had no leisure for thinking. Naturally, the thinkingcame afterwards.

He and Mrs. Barclay sat by her fire, resting, after coming home fromthe church. Dillwyn was very silent and meditative.

"You must be glad it is done, Philip," said his friend, watching him, and wishing to get at his thoughts.

"I have no particular reason to be glad."

"You have done a good thing."

"I am not sure if it is a good thing. Mrs. Armadale does not think so."

"Mrs. Armadale has rather narrow notions."

"I don't know. I should be glad to be sure she is not right. It'sdiscouraging," he added, with half a smile; – "for the first time in mylife I set myself to work; and now am not at all certain that I mightnot just as well have been idle."

"Work is a good thing in itself," said Mrs. Barclay, smiling.

"Pardon me! – work for an end. Work without an end – or with the end notattained – it is no better than a squirrel in a wheel."

"You have given a great deal of pleasure."

"To the children! For ought I know, they might have been just as wellwithout it. There will be a reaction to-morrow, very likely; and thenthey will wish they had gone to see the Christmas tree at the otherchurch."

"But they were kept at their own church."

"How do I know that is any good? Perhaps the teaching at the otherschool is the best."

"You are tired," said Mrs. Barclay sympathizingly.

"Not that. I have done nothing to tire me; but it strikes me it is verydifficult to see one's ends in doing good; much more difficult than tosee the way to the ends."

"You have partly missed your end, haven't you?" said Mrs. Barclaysoftly.

He moved a little restlessly in his chair; then got up and began towalk about the room; then came and sat down again.

"What are you going to do next?" she asked in the same way.

"Suppose you invite them – the two girls – or her alone – to make you avisit in New York?"

"Where?"

"At any hotel you prefer; say, the Windsor."

"O Philip, Philip!" —

"What? – You could have pleasant rooms, and be quite private andcomfortable; as much as if you were in your own house."

"And what should we cost you?"

"You are not thinking of that?" said he. "I will get you a house, ifyou like it better; but then you would have the trouble of a staff ofservants. I think the Windsor would be much the easiest plan."

"You are in earnest!"

"In earnest!" he repeated in surprise. "Have you ever questioned it?You judge because you never saw me in earnest in anything before in mylife."

"No, indeed," said Mrs. Barclay. "I always knew it was in you. What youwanted was only an object."

"What do you say to my plan?"

"I am afraid they would not come. There is the care of the oldgrandmother; they would not leave everything to their sister alone."

"Tempt them with pictures and music, and the opera."

"The opera! Philip, she would not go to a theatre, or anythingtheatrical, for any consideration. They are very strict on that point, and Sunday-keeping, and dancing. Do not speak to her of the opera."