t'll make you feel better. No, you shall take it, to please me,
now."

"Do hear the darlin talk!" said Mammy, as Eva thrust it into her bosom,
and kissing her, ran down stairs to her mother.

"What were you stopping for?"

"I was just stopping to give Mammy my vinaigrette, to take to church
with her."

"Eva" said Marie, stamping impatiently,--"your gold vinaigrette to
_Mammy!_ When will you learn what's _proper_? Go right and take it back
this moment!"

Eva looked downcast and aggrieved, and turned slowly.

"I say, Marie, let the child alone; she shall do as she pleases," said
St. Clare.

"St. Clare, how will she ever get along in the world?" said Marie.

"The Lord knows," said St. Clare, "but she'll get along in heaven better
than you or I."

"O, papa, don't," said Eva, softly touching his elbow; "it troubles
mother."

"Well, cousin, are you ready to go to meeting?" said Miss Ophelia,
turning square about on St. Clare.

"I'm not going, thank you."

"I do wish St. Clare ever would go to church," said Marie; "but he
hasn't a particle of religion about him. It really isn't respectable."

"I know it," said St. Clare. "You ladies go to church to learn how to
get along in the world, I suppose, and your piety sheds respectability
on us. If I did go at all, I would go where Mammy goes; there's
something to keep a fellow awake there, at least."

"What! those shouting Methodists? Horrible!" said Marie.

"Anything but the dead sea of your respectable churches, Marie.
Positively, it's too much to ask of a man. Eva, do you like to go? Come,
stay at home and play with me."

"Thank you, papa; but I'd rather go to church."

"Isn't it dreadful tiresome?" said St. Clare.

"I think it is tiresome, some," said Eva, "and I am sleepy, too, but I
try to keep awake."

"What do you go for, then?"

"Why, you know, papa," she said, in a whisper, "cousin told me that God
wants to have us; and he gives us everything, you know; and it isn't
much to do it, if he wants us to. It isn't so very tiresome after all."

"You sweet, little obliging soul!" said St. Clare, kissing her; "go
along, that's a good girl, and pray for me."

"Certainly, I always do," said the child, as she sprang after her mother
into the carriage.

St. Clare stood on the steps and kissed his hand to her, as the carriage
drove away; large tears were in his eyes.

"O, Evangeline! rightly named," he said; "hath not God made thee an
evangel to me?"

S