d been a solemn import
in these words.

Miss Rothesay was late in quitting the church. As she did so, she felt
her arm lightly touched, and saw beside her Mrs. Gwynne.

"My dear, I am glad to meet you--we scarcely expected to have seen
you at church to-day. Alone, too! then you must come with me to the
Parsonage to lunch. You say nay? What! are we still so far enemies that
you refuse our bread and salt?"

Olive coloured with sensitive fear lest she might have given pain.
Besides, she felt a strong attraction towards Mrs. Gwynne--a sense of
looking up, such as she had never before experienced towards any woman.
For, it is needless to say, Olive's affection for her mother was the
passionate, protecting tenderness of a nurse for a beloved charge--nay,
even of a lover towards an idolised mistress; but there was nothing of
reverential awe in it at all. Now Mrs. Gwynne carried with her dignity,
influence, command. Olive, almost against her will, found herself
passing down the green alley that led to the Parsonage. As she walked
along--her slight small figure pressed close to her companion, who had
taken her "under her arm,"--she felt almost like a child beside Harold's
mother.

At the door sat little Ailie, amusing herself with a great dog. She
looked restless and wearied, as a child does, kept in the house under
the restrictions of "Sunday play." At the sight of her grandmother,
the little girl seemed half-pleased, half-frightened, and tried to calm
Rover's frolics within the bounds of Sabbatic propriety. This being
impossible, Mrs. Gwynne's severe voice ordered both the offenders away
in different directions. Then she apologised to Miss Rothesay.

"Perhaps," she continued, "you are surprised that Ailie was not with me
this morning. But such is her father's will. My son Harold is peculiar
in his opinions, and has a great hatred of cant, especially infantile
cant."

"And does Ailie never go to church?"

"No! but I take care that she keeps Sunday properly and reverently at
home. I remove her playthings and her baby-books, and teach her a few of
Dr. Watt's moral hymns."

Olive sighed. She felt that this was not the way to teach the faith of
Him who smiled with benign tenderness on the little child "set in the
midst." And it grieved her to think what a wide gulf there was between
the untaught Ailie, and that sincere, but stern piety over which had
gathered the formality of advancing years.

Mrs. Gwynne and her guest