mson--when she heard her father's voice calling her from the top
of the little stair. When Lisbeth opened the door to the curate she was
on her way out, and had not yet returned; so she did not know any one
was with him, and hurried up with her arms bare. She recoiled half a
step when she saw Mr. Wingfold, then went frankly forward to welcome
him, her hands in her white pinafore.

"It's only flour," she said, smiling.

"It is a rare pleasure now-a-days to catch a lady at work" said
Wingfold. "My wife always dusts my study for me. I told her I would not
have it done except she did it--just to have the pleasure of seeing her
at it. My conviction is, that only a lady can become a thorough
servant."

"Why don't you have lady-helps then?" said Dorothy.

"Because I don't know where to find them. Ladies are scarce; and any
thing almost would be better than a houseful of half-ladies."

"I think I understand," said Dorothy thoughtfully.

Her father now stated Mr. Wingfold's proposal--in the tone of one sorry
to be unable to entertain it.

"I see perfectly why you think we could not manage it, papa," said
Dorothy. "But why should not Miss Meredith lodge with us in the same way
as with Mrs. Puckridge? She could have the drawing-room and my bedroom,
and her meals by herself. Lisbeth is wretched for want of dinners to
cook."

"Miss Meredith would hardly relish the idea of turning you out of your
drawing-room," said Wingfold.

"Tell her it may save us from being turned out of the house. Tell her
she will be a great help to us," returned Dorothy eagerly.

"My child," said her father, the tears standing in his eyes, "your
reproach sinks into my very soul."

"My reproach, father!" repeated Dorothy aghast. "How you do mistake me!
I can't say with you that the will of God is every thing; but I can say
that far less than your will--your ability--will always be enough for
me."

"My child," returned her father, "you go on to rebuke me! You are
immeasurably truer to me than I am to my God.--Mr. Wingfold, you love
the Lord, else I would not confess my sin to you: of late I have often
thought, or at least felt as if He was dealing hardly with me. Ah, my
dear sir! you are a young man: for the peace of your soul serve God so,
that, by the time you are my age, you may be sure of Him. I try hard to
put my trust in Him, but my faith is weak. It ought by this time to have
been strong. I always want to see the way He is leading me--to