of the scene was instantly
broken by Sally popping in from the kitchen, and glancing at Ruth
with sharp reproach. She said:

"I reckon I may bring in breakfast, now?" with a strong emphasis on
the last word.

"I am afraid I am very late," said Ruth.

"Oh, never mind," said Mr Benson, gently. "It was our fault for not
telling you our breakfast hour. We always have prayers at half-past
seven; and, for Sally's sake, we never vary from that time; for she
can so arrange her work, if she knows the hour of prayers, as to have
her mind calm and untroubled."

"Ahem!" said Miss Benson, rather inclined to "testify" against the
invariable calmness of Sally's mind at any hour of the day; but her
brother went on as if he did not hear her.

"But the breakfast does not signify being delayed a little; and I am
sure you were sadly tired with your long day yesterday."

Sally came slapping in, and put down some withered, tough, dry toast,
with--

"It's not my doing if it is like leather;" but as no one appeared to
hear her, she withdrew to her kitchen, leaving Ruth's cheeks like
crimson at the annoyance she had caused.

All day long, she had that feeling common to those who go to stay at
a fresh house among comparative strangers: a feeling of the necessity
that she should become accustomed to the new atmosphere in which she
was placed, before she could move and act freely; it was, indeed,
a purer ether, a diviner air, which she was breathing in now,
than what she had been accustomed to for long months. The gentle,
blessed mother, who had made her childhood's home holy ground, was
in her very nature so far removed from any of earth's stains and
temptations, that she seemed truly one of those

Who ask not if Thine eye
Be on them; who, in love and truth,
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth.

In the Bensons' house there was the same unconsciousness of
individual merit, the same absence of introspection and analysis of
motive, as there had been in her mother; but it seemed that their
lives were pure and good, not merely from a lovely and beautiful
nature, but from some law, the obedience to which was, of itself,
harmonious peace, and which governed them almost implicitly, and with
as little questioning on their part, as the glorious stars which
haste not, rest not, in their eternal obedience. This household had
many failings: they were but human, and, with all their loving desire
to bring t