f
her, when the kitchen door was thrust open and slammed again and Annie
stood before them, soaking with wet, her arms clasping a bundle of
little books and a light of sly triumph in her eyes. Boase, shutting a
dripping umbrella, was behind her. She had been across to the Vicarage
in all the wet and cold to make the Parson talk to her about her soul,
and to get rid of her he had finally given her a host of little cheap
devotional books that had from time to time been sent to him from the
publishers, and which he himself, disliking most modern books of
devotion, had not troubled to read. He knew they were suited to the
mentality of the average child of ten, and that therefore Annie with an
effort might understand them and would certainly think them full of the
Spirit.

He stood behind Annie, grave and quiet, signalling to Ishmael and Vassie
with his eyes. Vassie sprang forward.

"Why, Mamma, you're soaked!" she cried. "Come! it's up to the bed you
must go at once, and I'll bring you a hot drink when you're undressed.
You can look at your books better in bed, you know."

"That's a true word," said Annie; "so I can. I can have 'en all around
me on the bed, can't I, Vassie? I'll take en up, though; don't you touch
en, I fear you'm nought but an unconverted vessel, and I won't have 'ee
touchen my books."

Assuring her she should have it all her own way, Vassie got her out of
the room and upstairs, while Katie heated water for a stone bottle to
be put at her feet. Ishmael and Boase went into the parlour and sat down
with grave faces.

"I don't understand it at all, Padre," said Ishmael. "This isn't a bit
like her. Of course, she's always been funny, but she's never done a
thing like this."

"It may be nothing but her annual attack of salvation," said the Parson
drily. "I shouldn't worry about it if I were you; only keep an eye on
her. She's not as young as she was, and it won't do her any good to be
running about getting wet through."

"She'll never listen to anything I say."

"Well, Vassie seems able to manage her all right. She's a most capable
girl, that!"

"She is indeed," said Ishmael, pleased at praise of his sister, whom he
knew Boase as a rule was apt to criticise silently rather than admire.
"I don't think my life here would be possible without Vassie. There are
times when I feel I want to take mother's head and knock it against the
wall. It sounds awful, but it's true. I want to knock it and hear the
cr