I was a father to the
poor: and the cause that I knew not I searched out. And I brake the
jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil out of his teeth.'"

"To be a _father to the poor_, in these days, would give a man enough
to do, certainly; especially if he searched out all the causes which
were doubtful. It would take all a man's time, and all his money too,
if he were as rich as Job;--unless you put some limit, Lois."

"What limit, Mrs. Barclay?"

"Do you put none? I was not long ago speaking with a friend, such a man
of parts and powers as was mentioned just now; a man who thus far in
his life has done nothing but for his own cultivation and amusement. I
was urging upon him to do _something_ with himself; but I did not tell
him what. It did not occur to me to set him about righting ail the
wrongs of the world."

"Is he a Christian?"

"I am afraid you would not say so."

"Then he could not. One must love other people, to live for them."

"Love _all sorts?_" said Mrs. Barclay.

"You cannot work for them unless you do."

"Then it is hopeless!--unless one is born with an exceptional mind."

"O no," said Lois, smiling, "not hopeless. The love of Christ brings
the love of all that he loves."

There was a glow and a sparkle, and a tenderness too, in the girl's
face, which made Mrs. Barclay look at her in a somewhat puzzled
admiration. She did not understand Lois's words, and she saw that her
face was a commentary upon them; therefore also unintelligible; but it
was strangely pure and fair. "You would do for Philip, I do believe,"
she thought, "if he could get you; but he will never get you." Aloud
she said nothing. By and by Lois returned to the book she had brought
in with her.

"Here are some words which I cannot read; they are not English. What
are they?"

Mrs. Barclay read: "_Le bon gout, les ris, l'aimable liberte_. That is
French."

"What does it mean?"

"Good taste, laughter, and charming liberty. You do not know French?"

"O no," said Lois, with a sort of breath of longing. "French words come
in quite often here, and I am always so curious to know what they mean."

"Very well, why not learn? I will teach you."

"O, Mrs. Barclay!"--

"It will give me the greatest pleasure. And it is very easy."

"O, I do not care about _that_," said Lois; "but I would be so glad to
know a little more than I do."

"You seem to me to have _thought_ a good deal more than most girls of
your age; and thought is