His whole manner was
less heavy and ungainly than usual, for now that the time for action was
at hand he felt braced and invigorated, as energetic men do.

"You should study botany while you are down here," he said blandly.
"Depend upon it, one cannot learn too many things in one's youth.
Besides, a knowledge of natural science teaches us the marvellous
harmony which prevails throughout the universe, and so enlarges our
minds."

"I should very much like to know something of it," answered Kate.
"My only fear is that I should not be clever enough to learn it."

"The wood here is full of wonders. The tiniest mushroom is as
extraordinary and as worthy of study as the largest oak. Your father
was fond of plants and animals."

"Yes, I can remember that," said Kate, her face growing sad as her mind
travelled back to years gone by. What would that same father have
thought, she wondered, had he known how this man opposite to her had
treated her! What did it matter now, though, when she would so soon be
out of his power!

"I remember," said Girdlestone, stirring his tea thoughtfully, "when we
lived in the City as 'prentice lads together, we shared a room above the
shop. He used to have a dormouse that he was very fond of. All his
leisure time was spent in nursing the creature and cleaning its cage.
It seemed to be his only pleasure in life. One night it was running
across the floor, and I put my foot upon it."

"Oh, poor papa!" cried Kate.

"I did it upon principle. 'You have devoted too much time to the
creature,' I said. 'Raise up your thoughts higher!' He was grieved and
angry, but in time he came to thank me. It was a useful lesson."

Kate was so startled by this anecdote that she remained silent for some
little time. "How old were you then?" she asked at last.

"I was about sixteen."

"Then you were always--inclined that way?" She found some difficulty in
conveying her meaning in polite tones.

"Yes; I received a call when I was very young. I became one of the
elect at an early age."

"And which are the elect?" his ward asked demurely.

"The members of the Community of the Primitive Trinitarians--or, at
least those of them who frequent Purbrook Street Chapel. I hold that
the ministers in the other chapels that I have attended do not preach
the unadulterated Word, and have therefore missed the narrow path."

"Then," said Kate, "you think that no one will be saved except those who
frequent the