" said Rhoda, in a rather hard
tone. "I suppose that is what all men are like. But I did think he was
true--I did!"

"I never did," responded Phoebe.

"Well!" sighed Rhoda again. "Let it pass. Perhaps Mrs Dorothy is
right--'tis best to trust none of them."

"I don't think Mrs Dorothy said that," replied Phoebe, heaving a long
sigh, as she sat up and pushed back her ruffled hair. "I do hope I
wasn't rude to Mother."

"Nothing she'll care about," said Rhoda. "I wondered he did not come,
Phoebe."

"So did I, and I told him as much. But--Rhoda, I think perhaps we shall
forgive him sooner if we don't talk about it."

"Ah! I have not come to forgiving yet," was Rhoda's answer. "Perhaps I
shall some time. Well! I shall be an old maid now, Phoebe, like Mrs
Dorothy, I suppose you'll be the one to marry."

"Thank you, I'd rather not!" said Phoebe, quickly. "I am not sure I
should like it at all; and I am quite sure I don't want to be married
for my money, or for what people expect me to have."

"Oh, there's nothing else in this world!" answered Rhoda, with an air of
immense experience. "Don't you expect it. Every man you come across is
an avaricious, designing creature. Oh dear! 'tis a weary weary world,
and 'tis no good living!"

"Yes, Rhoda dear, there is one good in living, and 'tis always left to
us, whatever we may lose," said Phoebe, earnestly. "Don't you remember
what the Lord Jesus said to His disciples--`My meat is to do the will of
Him that sent Me?' There is always that, Rhoda."

"Ah, that is something I don't know anything about," said Rhoda,
wearily. "And I always think 'tis right down shabby of people to turn
religious, just because they have lost the world, and are disappointed
and tired. And I was never cut out for a saint, Phoebe--'tis no use!"

"Rhoda, dear, when people give all their days to Satan, and then turn
religious, as you say, just at last, when they are going to die, or
think they are--don't you think that right down shabby? The longer you
keep away from God, the less you have to give Him when you come. And
as--"

"I thought you Puritans always said we hadn't anything to give to God,
but He gave everything to us," objected Rhoda, pettishly.

Phoebe passed the tone by, and answered the words, "I think there are
two things we can give to God, Cousin: our sins, that He may cast them
into the depths of the sea; and ourselves, that He may save and train
us. And the lon