even Cecily a wee bit now
and then.

Cecily relapsed into anxious thought, and care sat visibly on her brow
for the rest of the day. Next morning she came to me and said:

"Bev, would you like to go for a walk with me this afternoon?"

"Of course," I replied. "Any particular where?"

"I'm going to see Mr. Campbell and ask him for his name for my square,"
said Cecily resolutely. "I don't suppose it will do any good. He
wouldn't give anything to the library last summer, you remember, till
the Story Girl told him that story about his grandmother. She won't
go with me this time--I don't know why. I can't tell a story and I'm
frightened to death just to think of going to him. But I believe it is
my duty; and besides I would love to get as many names on my square
as Kitty Marr has. So if you'll go with me we'll go this afternoon. I
simply COULDN'T go alone."

CHAPTER XXIII. A MISSIONARY HEROINE

Accordingly, that afternoon we bearded the lion in his den. The road we
took was a beautiful one, for we went "cross lots," and we enjoyed
it, in spite of the fact that we did not expect the interview with Mr.
Campbell to be a very pleasant one. To be sure, he had been quite civil
on the occasion of our last call upon him, but the Story Girl had been
with us then and had beguiled him into good-humour and generosity by
the magic of her voice and personality. We had no such ally now, and Mr.
Campbell was known to be virulently opposed to missions in any shape or
form.

"I don't know whether it would have been any better if I could have
put on my good clothes," said Cecily, with a rueful glance at her print
dress, which, though neat and clean, was undeniably faded and RATHER
short and tight. "The Story Girl said it would, and I wanted to, but
mother wouldn't let me. She said it was all nonsense, and Mr. Campbell
would never notice what I had on."

"It's my opinion that Mr. Campbell notices a good deal more than you'd
think for," I said sagely.

"Well, I wish our call was over," sighed Cecily. "I can't tell you how I
dread it."

"Now, see here, Sis," I said cheerfully, "let's not think about it
till we get there. It'll only spoil our walk and do no good. Let's just
forget it and enjoy ourselves."

"I'll try," agreed Cecily, "but it's ever so much easier to preach than
to practise."

Our way lay first over a hill top, gallantly plumed with golden rod,
where cloud shadows drifted over us like a gypsying crew. Carlisl