and he answered, "I think so,--yes. Some one
ought to represent the Crompton pew. It is out of the question for my
uncle to go, and he would not if he could. He has taken a violent
prejudice against the new rector, for no reason I can think of. He is a
good fellow,--the rector, I mean,--and not too straight-laced to smoke a
cigar, and he knows a fine horse when he sees one, and preaches splendid
sermons. I think I shall go and encourage him."

He did not urge Jack to accompany him, nor would Jack have done so if he
had. There was an idea in his mind, as well as in Howard's, which he
intended to carry out, and half an hour after Howard started for
church, he, too, left the house and walked slowly through the park in
the direction of Mrs. Biggs's.

"I don't know as it is just the thing to call on Sunday," he thought,
hesitating a little as he came in sight of the house, "but it seems an
age since I saw her. I'll just step to the door and inquire how she is."

His knock was not answered at first, but when he repeated it he heard
from the parlor what sounded like--"The key is under the mat," in a
voice he knew did not belong to Mrs. Biggs. That good woman was in
church. Tim had gone to the choir in St. John's, and Eloise was alone.
Ruby Ann had been to see her the night before with her massage and
rubber band, both of which had proved so successful that Eloise was
feeling greatly encouraged, and the outlook was not quite so forlorn as
when she first landed at Mrs. Biggs's, helpless and homesick and half
crazed with pain. Her ankle was improving fast, although she could not
walk; but she had hopes of taking her place in school within a week or
ten days. Mrs. Biggs had wondered why the young men from Crompton Place
did not call on Saturday, and Eloise had felt a little disappointed when
the day had passed and she did not see them.

"'Tain't noways likely they'll come to-day. Folks know my principles,
and that I don't b'lieve in Sunday visiting," she said as she tidied up
the room before starting for church. "Nobody'll come, unless it is Ruby
Ann with her massage, that's no more good than a cat's foot; so I'll
just give the parlor a lick and a promise till to-morrow, and 'fise you
I'd be comfortable in that wrapper."

But Eloise insisted upon the white dressing jacket with pink ribbons,
in which Mrs. Biggs said she looked "like a picter," regretting that the
young men could not see her.

"If it wasn't for desiccating the