I can think right about
things I'm sure I shall like them."

"That is true. I have already noticed a vast difference in my patience
in giving lessons. You know some days I would be so nervous and get so
exasperated with Fannie Thornton and Jenny Miles, I didn't know what to
do with myself, but the last few days I have not minded them at all, in
fact I got along better with Fannie than ever before, and it was just
because I kept from thinking she was contrary and stupid."

"Well, that is a practical application of your lesson. I think we ought
to apply it to everything we do," replied Grace.

"One of the chief beauties of this Christianity is that it goes into
every thought and action," said Kate, thoughtfully, adjusting her hair.

"Oh!" she added a moment later, "I forgot to give you the letter that
came to-day." She pulled it out of her pocket all crumpled and gave it
to Grace, who glanced at her name on the envelope and then grew white
about the mouth as she hastily put it into her pocket, remarking in an
ordinary tone, "It will keep a little longer."

Little was said by either for some time. Grace was preoccupied and Kate
furtively watched her face, for this was an unaccountable procedure,
although occasionally Grace had been affected the same way before.

She insisted on washing the dishes, and was glad indeed that she had it
to do, while Kate poured her thoughts into music, feeling that she could
best show sympathy for her friend by this, to her, most expressive way.

As for Grace, she waited till she had quite finished her work and then
sat down to read the letter. She well knew it was from Leon Carrington,
a suitor, whom she had rejected on the plea that she wished to be wedded
solely to her art. Pride had forbidden her being frank enough to tell
him the real reason, caused by an impeachment made against his
character, by one whom she implicitly trusted as a friend. Her bitter
resolve was the result, and while it was true she loved and desired to
spend her life in pursuing her art, she had compelled herself to think
she loved it best, and so told him it was first choice.

Hers was a proud, deep nature, and rather than admit that she had loved
or could love one whom she considered unworthy, she cut the matter short
by a decided rejection. It had cost her a mighty effort to come to this
decision, and when she came out of the trial, she had lost her faith in
all men.

On all other points but this, Grace was