been together ever sence their father died. An' here she's
got the school, an' she's goin' to Sudleigh every Saturday to take
lessons in readin', an' she'd be as happy as a cricket, if on'y he'd
let her alone."

"She reads real well," said Mrs. Ellison. "She come over to our sociable
an' read for us. She could turn herself into anybody she'd a mind to.
Len wrote a notice of it for the 'Star.' That's the only time we've had
oysters over our way."

"I'd let it be the last," piped up a thin old lady, with a long figured
veil over her face. "It's my opinion oysters lead to dancin'."

"Well, let 'em lead," said optimistic Mrs. Page. "I guess we needn't
foller."

"Them that have got rheumatism in their knees can stay behind," said the
young married woman, drawn by the heat of the moment into a daring at
once to be repented. "Mrs. Ellison, you're getting ahead of us over in
your parish. They say you sing out of sheet music."

"Yes, they do say so," interrupted the old lady under the figured veil.
"If there's any worship in sheet music, I'd like to know it!"

"Come, come!" said peace-loving Mrs. Page; "there's the men filin' in.
We mustn't let 'em see us squabblin'. They think we're a lot o' cacklin'
hens anyway, tickled to death over a piece o' chalk. There's Isabel,
now. She's goin' to look like her aunt Mary Ellen, over to Saltash."

Isabel preceded the men, who were pausing for a word at the door, and
went down the aisle to her pew. She bowed to one and another, in
passing, and her color rose. They could not altogether restrain their
guiltily curious gaze, and Isabel knew she had been talked over. She was
a healthy-looking girl, with clear blue eyes and a quantity of soft
brown hair. Her face was rather large-featured, and one could see that,
if the world went well with her, she would be among those who develop
beauty in middle life.

The group of dames dispersed to their several pews, and settled their
faces into expressions more becoming a Sunday mood. The village folk,
who had time for a hot dinner, dropped in, one by one, and by and by the
parson came,--a gaunt man, with thick red-brown hair streaked with dull
gray, and red-brown, sanguine eyes. He was much beloved, but something
impulsive and unevenly balanced in his nature led even his people to
regard him with more or less patronage. He kept his eyes rigorously
averted from Isabel's pew, in passing; but when he reached the pulpit,
and began unpinning his hea