had better not do any lessons this morning, for I am sure you
cannot be well, Beth, or you would never speak to your mother in such
a way."

"Well, I'm sorry, mamma," Beth rejoined in a mollified tone. "But you
know I cannot stand these everlasting naggings and scoldings. They
make me horrid. I'm pugnacious when I'm rubbed the wrong way; I can't
help it."

"There, there, then; that will do," Mrs. Caldwell replied. "Run out
and amuse yourself, or have a rest. You take too much exercise, and
tire yourself to death; and then you are _so_ cross there is no
speaking to you. Go away, like a good child, and amuse yourself until
you feel better."

Beth went back to her own room at once, only too glad to escape and be
alone. She was not well. Every bone in her body ached, and her head
was thumping so she had to lie down on her bed at last, and keep still
for the rest of the day. But her mind was active the whole time, and
it was a happy day. She expected nothing, yet she was pleasurably
satisfied, perfectly content.

The next morning at eleven there was service in the church at the end
of the road. Beth and her mother had been having the usual morning
misery at lessons, and both were exhausted when the bell began to
ring. Beth's countenance was set sullen, and Mrs. Caldwell's showed
suppressed irritation. The bell was a relief to them.

"Can I go to church?" Beth asked.

Her mother's first impulse was to say no, out of pure contrariness;
but the chance of getting rid of Beth on any honourable pretext was
too much of a temptation even for her to withstand. "Yes, if you
like," she answered ungraciously, after a moment's hesitation; "and
get some good out of it if you can," she added sarcastically.

Beth went with honest intention. There was a glow in her chest which
added fervency to her devotions, and when Alfred entered from the
vestry and took his seat in the chancel pew, happiness, tingling in
every nerve, suffused her. His first glance was for her, and Beth knew
it, but bent her head. Her soul did magnify the Lord, however, and her
spirit did rejoice in God her Saviour, with unlimited love and trust.
He had saved them, He would hear them. He would help them, He would
make them both--_both_ good and great--great after a pause, as being
perhaps not a worthy aspiration.

She did not look at Alfred a second time, but she sat and stood and
knelt, all conscious of him, and it seemed as if the service lasted
but a moment.