way
because of a serious illness."

"If Oliver were ill, or you, or father, I'd go in a minute unless one of
the children was really sick--but just to see a play is different, and
I'd feel as if I were neglecting my duty. The funny part is that Oliver
is so wrapped up in this play that he doesn't seem to be able to get his
mind off it, poor darling. Father was never that way about his sermons,
was he?"

"Your father never thought of himself or of his own interests enough,
Jinny. If he ever had a fault, it was that. But I suppose he approaches
perfection as nearly as a man ever did."

Slipping the darning gourd into the toe of one of Lucy's little white
stockings, Virginia gazed attentively at a small round hole while she
held her needle arrested slightly above it. So exquisitely Madonna-like
was the poise of her head and the dreaming, prophetic mystery in her
face, that Mrs. Pendleton waited almost breathlessly for her words.

"There's not a single thing that I would change in Oliver, if I could,"
she said at last.

"It is so beautiful that you feel that way, darling. I suppose all
happily married women do."

A week later, across Harry's birthday cake, which stood surrounded by
four candles in the centre of the rectory table, Virginia offered her
cheerful explanation of Oliver's absence, in reply to a mild inquiry
from the rector. "He was obliged to go to New York yesterday about the
rehearsal of 'The Beaten Road,' father. We were both so sorry he
couldn't be here to-day, but it was impossible for him to wait over."

"It's a pity," said the rector gently. "Harry will never be just four
years old again, will you, little man?" Even the substantial fact that
Oliver's play would, it was hoped, provide a financial support for his
children, did not suffice to lift it from the region of the unimportant
in the mind of his father-in-law.

"But he'll have plenty of other birthdays when papa will be here,"
remarked Virginia brightly. Though she had been a little hurt to find
that Oliver had arranged to leave home the night before, and that he had
appeared perfectly blind to the importance of his presence at Harry's
celebration, her native good sense had not permitted her to make a
grievance out of the matter. On her wedding day she had resolved that
she would not be exacting of Oliver's time or attention, and the
sweetness of her disposition had smoothed away any difficulties which
had intervened between her and her idea