t? hearken
diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul
delight itself in fatness.'"

Lois closed her book.

"Who says that?" Philip inquired.

"God himself, by his messenger."

"And to whom?"

"I think, just now, the words come to you, Mr. Dillwyn." Lois said this
with a manner and look of such simplicity, that Philip was not even
reminded of the class of monitors he had in his mind assigned her with.
It was absolute simple matter of fact; she meant business.

"May I look at it?" he said.

She found the page again, and he considered it. Then as he gave it
back, remarked,

"This does not tell me yet _what_ this satisfying food is?"

"No, that you can know only by experience."

"How is the experience to be obtained?"

Again Lois found the words in her book and showed them to him.
"'Whosoever drinketh of the water _that I shall give him_'--and again,
above, 'If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to
thee, Give me to drink, thou wouldest have asked of him, and _he would
have given thee_ living water.' Christ gives it, and he must be asked
for it."

"And then--?" said Philip.

"Then you would be _satisfied_."

"You think it?"

"I know it."

"It takes a great deal to satisfy a man!"

"Not more than it does for a woman."

"And you are satisfied?" he asked searchingly.

But Lois smiled as she gave her answer; and it was an odd and very
inconsistent thing that Philip should be disposed to quarrel with her
for that smile. I think he wished she were _not_ satisfied. It was very
absurd, but he did not reason about it; he only felt annoyed.

"Well, Miss Lothrop," he said as he rose, "I shall never forget this
conversation. I am very glad no one came in to interrupt it."

Lois had no phrases of society ready, and replied nothing.

CHAPTER VII.

THE WORTH OF THINGS.

Mr. Dillwyn walked away from Mrs. Wishart's in a discontented mood,
which was not usual with him. He felt almost annoyed with something;
yet did not quite know what, and he did not stop to analyze the
feeling. He walked away, wondering at himself for being so discomposed,
and pondering with sufficient distinctness one or two questions which
stood out from the discomposure.

He was a man who had gone through all the usual routine of education
and experience common to those who belong to the upper class of
society, and can boast of a good name and family. He had lived his
college lif