what careless in letting the fires go out, and so giving the
servants the trouble to relight them; but now she is always going round
the rooms to see if more coal is required, without my ever having to
remind her."

"It is so, and I rejoice. Carelessness in domestic matters is a grave
fault in a young girl, and I am pleased that Elisabeth has outgrown her
habit of wool-gathering, and of letting the fire go out under her very
nose without noticing it. It is a source of thanksgiving to me that the
child is so much more thoughtful and considerate in this matter than she
used to be."

Miss Farringdon's thanksgiving, however, would have been less fervent
had she known that, for the time being, her _protegee_ had assumed the
role of a Vestal virgin, and that Elisabeth's care of the fires that
winter was not fulfilment of a duty but part of a game. This, however,
was Elisabeth's way; she frequently received credit for performing a
duty when she was really only taking part in a performance; which merely
meant that she possessed the artist's power of looking at duty through
the haze of idealism, and of seeing that, although it was good, it might
also be made picturesque. Elisabeth was well versed in The Pilgrim's
Progress and The Fairchild Family. The spiritual vicissitudes of Lucy,
Emily, and Henry Fairchild were to her a drama of never-failing
interest; while each besetment of the Crosbie household--which was as
carefully preserved for its particular owner as if sin were a species of
ground game--never failed to thrill her with enjoyable disgust. She
knew a great portion of the Methodist hymn-book by heart, and pondered
long over the interesting preface to that work, wondering much what
"doggerel" and "botches" could be--she inclined to the supposition that
the former were animals and the latter were diseases; but even her vivid
imagination failed to form a satisfactory representation of such queer
kittle-cattle as "feeble expletives." Every Sunday she gloated over the
frontispiece of John Wesley, in his gown and bands and white ringlets,
feeling that, though poor as a picture, it was very superior to the
letterpress; the worst illustrations being better than the best poetry,
as everybody under thirteen must know. But Elisabeth's library was not
confined to the volumes above mentioned; she regularly perused with
interest two little periodicals, called respectively Early Days and The
Juvenile Offering. The former treated of yo