I shall not be here until evening; but we
shall have time then for a long talk, and you shall tell me everything.'
And then, without waiting for an answer, I left the room. It was late
indeed. Miss Locke had long returned, and was busying herself over her
sister's supper; she held up her finger to me smiling as I passed, and
I peeped in.

Kitty was lying on the rug, fast asleep, with the doll in her arms.

'I found them like this when I came in,' whispered Miss Locke; 'she must
have been listening to the music and fallen asleep. How late you have
stopped with Phoebe! it is nearly eight o'clock!'

'I do not think the time has been wasted,' I answered cheerfully, as
I bade her good-night and stepped out into the darkness. Is time ever
wasted, I wonder, when we stop in our daily work to give one of these
weak ones a cup of cold water? It is not for me to answer; only our
recording angel knows how some such little deed of kindness may brighten
some dim struggling life that seems over-full of pain.

CHAPTER XII

A MISSED VOCATION

It was pleasant to wake to bright sunshine the next morning, and to hear
the sparrows twittering in the ivy.

It had been my intention to set apart Sunday as much as possible as a day
of rest and refreshment. Of course I could not expect always to control
the various appeals for my help or to be free from my patients, but by
management I hoped to secure the greater part of the day for myself.

I had told Peggy not to expect me at the cottage until the afternoon;
everything was in such order that there was no necessity for me to forgo
the morning service. My promise to Phoebe Locke would keep me a prisoner
for the evening, but I determined that her sister and Kitty should be set
free to go to church, so my loss would be their gain.

I thought of Jill as I dressed myself. She had often owned to me that the
Sundays at Hyde Park Gate were not to her taste. Visitors thronged the
house in the afternoon; Sara discussed her week's amusements with her
friends or yawned over a novel; the morning's sermon was followed as a
matter of course by a gay luncheon party. 'What does it mean, Ursula?'
Jill would say, opening her big black eyes as widely as possible: 'I do
not understand. Mr. Erskine has been telling us that we ought to renounce
the world and our own wills, and not to follow the multitude to do
foolishness, and all the afternoon mother and Sara having been talking
about dresses for th