ger you stay away, the more sin you will have to bring;
and the less time there will be for loving and serving Him. You will be
sorry, when you do come, that you were not sooner."

"How do you know I shall? I tell you, I wasn't cut out for a saint."

"I think you will, Cousin, because I have asked Him to bring you," said
Phoebe, simply; "and it must be His will to hear that; because He
willeth not the death of a sinner."

"So you count me a sinner! I am sure I'm very much obliged to you!"
said Rhoda, more in her old style than before.

"Yes, dear Cousin, I count you a sinner; and so do I myself, and every
body else," said Phoebe, gently.

"Oh, well, I suppose we are all sinners," admitted Rhoda. "Don't I keep
telling you I am not made for a saint?"

"But you were, Rhoda; God made you for Himself," said Phoebe.

"Oh, well 'tis no use talking!" and Rhoda got up, and began to pull down
her elaborately-dressed hair, with hasty, uncareful fingers. "We'd
better go to bed."

"Perhaps it isn't much use talking," said Phoebe, as she rose to help
her. "But it is sure to be some praying, so I shall go on."

It was a few days later, and Phoebe was crossing the Park on her way to
the Maidens' Lodge, carrying a basket of fruit sent by Mrs Latrobe to
Lady Betty. From all the Maidens, except Lady Betty, Mrs Latrobe held
aloof. Mrs Jane was too sharp for her, Mrs Marcella too querulous,
and Mrs Dorothy too dull. Mrs Clarissa she denounced as "poor vain
flirt that could not see her time was passed," and Mrs Eleanor, she
declared, gave her the horrors only to look at. But Lady Betty she
diligently cultivated. How much of her regard was due to her Ladyship's
title, Mrs Latrobe did not explain.

Phoebe was nearing the Maidens' Lodge, and had just entered the last
glade on her way thither, when--very much to her disapprobation and
dismay--from a belt of trees on her left hand, Mr Marcus Welles stepped
out and stood before her.

"Your most humble servant, Mrs Phoebe! I was very desirous to have the
honour of waiting on you this fine morning; and thinking that I saw you
at a little distance, I took the great liberty of accosting you."

If Phoebe had said just what she thought, she would have informed Mr
Welles that he had taken a wholly unwarrantable liberty in so doing; for
while she sagely counselled Rhoda to forgive the offender, she had by no
means forgiven him herself. But being mindful of conventionalities,
Pho