me into your dairy?"

"If you like it," said Mrs. Caxton smiling.

"I like it exceedingly. It is something like a musical box to me, Miss
Powle, to see Mrs. Caxton's cheese-making. It soothes my nerves, the
noiseless order of everything. Do you know that wonderful cheese-house,
where they stand in ranks like yellow millstones? I never can get over
my surprise at going in there. Certainly we, as a nation, are fond of
cheese!"

"You think so because you are not," said Mrs. Caxton. "It is too late
for the dairy to-day. You shall give me help in my garden, where I want
it."

"I understand," says Mr. Rhys. "But it is my business to make flowers
grow in the Lord's garden--wherever I can. I wish I could do more of
_that_ gardening work!"

Eleanor gave a quick glance up at the speaker. His brow rested on his
hand for the moment; she noticed the sharply drawn lines of the face,
the thin cheeks, the complexion, which all witnessed to _over_-work
already attempted and done. The brow and eyes were marked with lines of
watching and fatigue. It was but a glance, and Eleanor's eyes went down
again; with an additional lesson of unconscious testimony carried deep
home. This man lived as he talked. The good of existence was not one
thing in his lips and another in his practice. Eleanor looked at her
plate with her heart burning. In her old fancy for studying, or at
least reading, hands, she had noticed too in her glance the hand on
which the head rested; and with surprise. It was almost a feminine hand
in make, with long slim fingers; white withal, and beautifully cared
for. Certain refinements were clearly necessary to this man, who was
ready to plunge himself into a country of savages nevertheless, where
all the refinement would be his own. To some natures it would be easier
to part with a hand altogether, than to forego the necessity of having
it clean. This was one. And he was going to give himself up to
Polynesia and its practices. Eleanor eat with the rest of her breakfast
and swallowed with her tea, the remembered words of the apostle--"But
what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for
Christ."--"Neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may
finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of
the Lord Jesus, to be faithful."--Eleanor's heart swelled. Tears were
very near.

After breakfast, a large part of the morning was spent by her aunt and
Mr. Rhys in the garden; as Mrs. Caxton had sa