"

"This is very interesting," commented Fairchilds, his contemplative
gaze moving from the face of Mrs. Wackernagel to Tillie. "But," he
questioned, "Mrs. Wackernagel, why are your daughters allowed to do
what you think wrong and would not do?"

"Well," began Aunty Em, entering with relish into the discussion, for
she was strong in theology, "we don't hold to forcin' our childern or
interferin' with the free work of the Holy Spirit in bringin' souls to
the truth. We don't do like them fashionable churches of the world
where teaches their childern to say their prayers and makes 'em read
the Bible and go to Sunday-school. We don't uphold to Sunday-schools.
You can't read nothin' in the Scripture about Sunday-schools. We hold
everybody must come by their free will, and learnt only of the Holy
Spirit, into the light of the One True Way."

Fairchilds gravely thanked her for her explanation and pursued the
subject no further.

When Tillie presently saw him start out with her cousins, an
unregenerate longing filled her soul to stay away from meeting and go
with them, to spend this holy Sabbath day in worshiping, not her God,
but this most god-like being who had come like the opening up of heaven
into her simple, uneventful life. In her struggle with her conscience
to crush such sinful desires, Tillie felt that now, for the first time,
she understood how Jacob of old had wrestled with the Angel.

Her spiritual struggle was not ended by her going dutifully to meeting
with her aunt. During all the long services of the morning she fought
with her wandering attention to keep it upon the sacred words that were
spoken and sung. But her thoughts would not be controlled. Straying
like a wicked imp into forbidden paths, her fancy followed the envied
ones into the soft, cool shadows of the autumn woods and along the
banks of the beautiful Conestoga, and mingling with the gentle
murmuring of the leaves and the rippling of the water, she heard that
resonant voice, so unlike any voice she had ever heard before, and that
little abrupt laugh with its odd falsetto note, which haunted her like
a strain of music; and she saw, in the sunlight of the lovely October
morning, against a background of gold and brown leaves and silver
water, the finely chiseled face, the thoughtful, pale forehead, the
kind eyes, the capable white hands, of this most wonderful young man.

Tillie well understood that could the brethren and sisters know in what
a