rning this very matter of the concert, she had heard Uncle Ralph
remark that if all the world matched what they did with what they
said, as well as Abbie did, he was not sure but he might be a
Christian himself. Then suppose she should add that this very pointed
remark had been made to her when they were on their way to the concert
in question.

Altogether, Ester was disgusted and wished she could get back to where
the conversation commenced, feeling certain now that she would leave a
great many things unsaid.

I do not know how the conversation would have ended, whether Ester
could have brought herself to the plain truth, and been led on and on
to explain the unrest and dissatisfaction of her own heart, and thus
have saved herself much of the sharp future in store for her; but one
of those unfortunate interruptions which seem to finite eyes to be
constantly occurring, now came to them. There was an unusual bang to
the front door, the sound of strange footsteps in the hall, the
echo of a strange voice floated up to her, and Abbie, with a sudden
flinging of thimble and scissors, and an exclamation of "Ralph has
come," vanished.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LITTLE CARD.

Left to herself, Ester found her train of thought so thoroughly
disagreeable that she hastened to rid herself of it, and seized upon
the new comer to afford her a substitute.

This cousin, whom she had expected to influence for good, had at last
arrived. Ester's interest in him had been very strong ever since
that evening of her arrival, when she had been appealed to to use her
influence on him--just in what way she hadn't an idea. Abbie had never
spoken of it since, and seemed to have lost much of her eager desire
that the cousins should meet. Ester mused about all this now; she
wished she knew just in what way she was expected to be of benefit.
Abbie was evidently troubled about him. Perhaps he was rough and
awkward; school-boys often were, even those born in a city. Very much
of Ralph's life had been spent away from home, she knew; and she had
often heard that boys away from home influences grew rude and coarse
oftentimes. Yes, that was undoubtedly it. Shy, too, he was of course;
he was of about the age to be that. She could imagine just how he
looked--he felt out of place in the grand mansion which he called
home, but where he had passed so small a portion of his time. Probably
he didn't know what to do with his hands, nor his feet; and just
as