ad to have you call me sister. I
thought you would be prejudiced against it, and would not do it."

"Prejudiced!" I said; "not a bit of it. I am delighted to do so."

"That is really good of you," she said; "and how have you been? You look
a little wan and tired. Have you been doing your own writing?"

"Oh, no," I said; "I have given up writing, at least for the present. I
wish I could make you understand how glad I am to call you sister, and
how it would joy my heart if you would call me brother."

"Oh, that would not do at all," she said, in a tone which indicated
surprise at my ignorance; "that would be quite a different thing. I am a
sister to everybody, but you are not a brother to anybody."

"When you hear what I have to say about this," I answered, "you will
understand what I mean by wishing to be called brother. May I ask where
you are going?"

"I am going to visit a sick person in that little house at the bottom of
the hill. Sister Agatha came with me, but she had the toothache, and had
to go back. I expect Sister Sarah will send some one of the others to
join me, for she always wants us to go about in couples."

"She is entirely right," said I; "I did not know she had so much sense,
and I shall make one of the couple this time. You ought not to be
walking about here by yourself."

"I suppose I ought to have gone back with Sister Agatha," said she, "but
I didn't want to. I'm dreadfully tired of staying in the House of
Martha, trying to learn typewriting. I can do it pretty well now, but
nothing has come of it. Sister Sarah got me one piece of work, which was
to copy a lot of bad manuscript about local option. I am sure, if I am
to do that sort of thing I shall not like typewriting."

"You shall not do that sort of thing," said I; "and now let us walk on
slowly, while I tell you what I meant by the term brother." I was in a
whirl of delight. Now I would talk to one who I believed would
sympathize with my every thought, who would be in harmony with my
outreachings, if she could do no more, and from whom I need expect
neither ridicule nor revilings. We walked on slowly, and I laid before
her my scheme for the brotherhood of the House of Martha.

I was not mistaken in my anticipation of Sylvia's sympathy. She listened
with sparkling eyes, and when I finished, clapped her hands with
delight.

"That is one of the best plans that was ever heard of in this world,"
she said. "How different it would make our