etter pleased about a sister. He might be jealous if we filled
his place so soon."

There was some wisdom in that, and quite a comfort to the father's
heart.

The baby's name was the first real disagreement. She grew rapidly and
was a bright, smiling little thing. Bessy loved her child extravagantly,
jealously. But she would have none of the plain or biblical names her
husband suggested. She laughed at them with her bright humor and made
merry amusement over them, calling the child by endearing and fanciful
appellations. To-day she was one kind of a flower, to-morrow another,
and Rosebud a great deal of the time.

She was often at the house of Madam Wetherill. Indeed, she was generally
spoken of as the gay little Quaker, but it was only her slim
gracefulness and dainty ways that gained this description, for she was
quite tall. She discarded her thees and thous here, though at that day
all language was much more formal. Sometimes, when her husband was to be
away all day, she would take the child and its nurse and spend the time
with her relative.

It was after one of these occasions that she took off a little of the
worldly frippery she had indulged in and put on her very plainest cap,
but she could not disguise the arch, pretty face, and this evening it
really seemed more beguiling than ever. Caresses of all kinds were
frowned upon as being not only undignified, but savoring of the world
and the flesh. Still, Philemon Henry would have sorely missed the
greeting and parting kiss his wife gave him. She had a certain
adroitness, too, and the tact to make no show of this before the
brethren, or any of the sober-minded sisters. He sometimes wondered if
it was not "stolen waters," it had such an extraordinary flavor of
sweetness. Then he would resolve to forget it, but he never did.

She kissed him tenderly this evening. His dinner was excellent, his
day's work had been very profitable, and he was in high good humor.

"Husband," she began afterward, leaning her head on his shoulder, "I
must make a confession to thee of my day's doings. Thou wilt be angry at
first, but it is done now," smilingly.

"Hast thou been up to some mischief?" His tone had a sense of amusement
in it.

"Very serious mischief. For a brief while I felt like going back to the
faith of my childhood, but my love for thee will keep me in the straight
and narrow faith. But to-day I have had my babe christened in Christ
Church, and named Primrose."