were, as it happened, discussing him, and perhaps, like "superior" people in general, he would have been a little surprised at the freedom of some of their remarks. These people were: Mrs. Blanchard, arrayed in one of the first "tea-gowns" that had ever been seen in Minton, whose delicate green set off the warm tints of her hair and complexion; Miss Blanchard, whose quiet afternoon dress, soft and close fitting, contrasted with the more pretentious attire of her sister-in-law, and showed a fine figure to perfection; and two afternoon visitors, who were evidently very much at home. One of these was a young lady, with fair fluffy hair and very fashionable dress, of a peculiarly fresh and delicate prettiness, and a manner that every one called very "taking." The other was a slender, undersized young man, fairly good-looking, with regular features, dark hair and eyes, and an expression of nothing in particular save satisfaction with himself, his surroundings, and his carefully faultless attire. Two children completed the party; a tiny girl in a mass of white embroidery, playing with a pet terrier on the hearth-rug, and a small boy with an aureole of reddish curls, who sat on Miss Blanchard's knee, thoughtfully gazing into the fire.

"Oh!" exclaimed the fair young lady, as she handed her empty cup to the young man who was waiting for it. "Did you hear, Nora, about my cousin, Janie Spencer?"

"What about her, Kitty? Is she engaged, too?"

"Oh, dear no! nothing, so common! Something you'll say is a great deal better! In fact, I call it grand, heroic! Don't you know she's actually made up her mind to be a nurse, and she's gone to the Saint Barnabas hospital for training!"

"Has she, really?" exclaimed Miss Blanchard, with great interest, her cheek flushing a little, and her dark-blue eyes lighting up. "Well, that's good!"

"I knew you would say that," said Kitty, complacently, rejoicing in the effect of her bit of news. "And, do you know, she tells me it was all through Mr. Chillingworth's lovely sermons about self-sacrifice, and—giving up, don't you know. They made her feel so selfish, and as if she had no object in life but enjoying herself, and so, she said, she couldn't rest in her mind till she set to work to do something for other people. And then, she said, they had girls enough at home without her, and she was tired of doing nothing in particular, and she always did have a fancy for nursing. Now, you must be sure and tell Mr. Chillingworth all about it, the first time you see him."

"Why not tell him yourself, Kitty?" was the laughing reply. "You see him oftener than I do."

"Oh, I never can talk to him about such serious things! He looks as if he didn't expect it, or as if it was a sort of liberty; and then he seems to think I'm making fun of him, and I never feel sure that he isn't making fun of me."

"Well, I shouldn't say that Mr. Chillingworth was overburdened with 'fun,'" said the young man, smiling at Kitty. "He wouldn't make his fortune as a humorist; his views of life are too serious, and it seems he is making other people's views serious, too."

"A good thing, too, if he were to do a little for you in that way," she replied.

"Yes, I'm sadly aware that I am far behind you in that respect, Miss Farrell," he retorted, with mock gravity.

"Don't be impertinent, Mr. Pomeroy!" replied the young lady.

Here a diversion was made by the curly-haired Eddie, from his post on Miss Blanchard's lap. His long and serious contemplation of the fire ended with a sigh, and the subject of it came out in the remark:

"I like the Crusaders a great deal better than the Giant-killers, Auntie! Don't you think they were the best?"

"I don't know, Eddie," replied Miss Blanchard, truthfully. "I never thought about it, I am afraid."

"Well, think! Auntie, think!" persisted the child, hugging her neck very tightly, while the others laughed.

"I think some of the Crusaders were Giant-killers, Eddie," said the young man, not sorry to air his historical knowledge. "Saladin gets the credit of being a pretty fairish giant, doesn't he, Miss Blanchard? or so I think my school-books used to say. By the way, wouldn't Chillingworth have made a first-class Crusader, a Crusader chaplain, you know?"

"Why, it was only the other Sunday he was telling us what mistaken views the Crusaders had, and how they often left real duties for visionary enterprises. See how well I have remembered that!" exclaimed Kitty.

"I doubt if he would have seen it, then," replied Mr. Pomeroy, chuckling over a happy thought.

"Oh, Nora, are you going to help in the oratorio, the 'Messiah,' you know? Mr. Chillingworth is taking such an interest in it! All we girls in the choir are to sing in the choruses. Hasn't he asked you?"

"Yes," said Nora, quietly.

"Why, he's been here three times within the last fort-night," said Mrs. Blanchard; "he's just set on getting Nora to sing; and she's got some sort of idea in her head about it, I don't know what. There's another ring, Nora; look if there's any tea left, there's a dear!"

CHAPTER III.

AN UNEXPECTED INTERRUPTION.

As Nora rose, and set down Eddie, a leisurely masculine tread sounded in the hall. When the door opened and revealed Mr. Chillingworth's tall figure, young Pomeroy turned to Miss Farrell, theatrically whispering:

"Speak of angels and you hear the rustle of their wings!"

"Good evening, Mr. Chillingworth," said Mrs. Blanchard, effusively; "here are these young people all talking about you."

"I hope they haven't found anything very bad to say," said Mr. Chillingworth, smiling graciously, as he greeted the party, yet unable to conceal altogether the sensitiveness to being "talked about," natural to most reserved and dignified people.

"No! I should hope not!" replied his hostess. "Do you think they would dare to say anything bad of you here? On the contrary, Miss Farrell has just been telling us how her cousin, Janie Spencer, has been led, by your preaching, to make up her mind to be a hospital nurse. I think it's splendid of her!"

"Yes, it's very fine," replied Mr. Chillingworth. "I am glad she has decided so. Her mother spoke to me of it some time ago, and I begged her to say nothing to dissuade her, but to leave her to follow, unbiased, her own convictions of duty. She has set a noble example."

"Well, I should think you would feel yourself rewarded," Mrs. Blanchard said, as she poured out a cup of tea, and handed it to her dignified guest; while Miss Farrell exclaimed:

"I hope you don't expect us all to follow it, Mr. Chillingworth, and go to be hospital nurses right away!"

"Not in the least," he replied, his dark eyes glancing up at the young lady from under his strongly marked eyebrows. "I don't think that is likely to be your vocation, Miss Kitty, at any rate. But there are other ways of doing good. Life is, indeed, full of opportunities. The pity is, we let so many of them slip," he added, rather sententiously.

"It would be a pity to let this one slip," remarked Mr. Pomeroy, handing the clergyman a plate of macaroons, and helping himself at the same time. "Miss Blanchard, I believe you made these macaroons. They are first-class."

The young man rather resented the clergyman's intrusion, as he considered it. He preferred to have both young ladies to himself, just then.

"The macaroons are excellent," said Mr. Chillingworth, "but I want you to do something better than that for me. I hope you have been trying over those choruses, and the air I wanted you to take as a solo."

Miss Blanchard's bright look clouded a little, and her broad white brow contracted slightly with an expression of perplexity.

"I have tried them," she said; "but I haven't quite made up my mind about the choruses. I don't altogether like the idea of it yet! And I am quite sure