of God had, it seemed, done very little for them. It might
be true that the history of the soul was of more importance than the
history of the body, but common sense had something to say.

Her mind went back inevitably to St. Dreot's church, her father, Ellen
the cook. That was what the history of the spirit had been to her so
far. What reason had she to suppose that this was any more real than
that had been? Nevertheless, when at the end of the sermon she left the
building and went once more into the soaking streets some sense of
expectation was with her, so that she hastened into her aunt's house as
though she would find that some strange event had occurred in her
absence.

Nothing, of course, had occurred.

During the afternoon the rain ceased to fall and a dim, grey light,
born of an intense silence, enveloped the town. About three o'clock the
aunts went out to some religious gathering and Maggie was left to
herself. She discovered in Aunt Elizabeth's bedroom a bound volume of
Good Words, and with this seated herself by the drawing-room fire. Soon
she slept.

She was awakened by a consciousness that some one was in the room and,
sitting up, staring through the gloom, heard a movement near the door,
a rustle, a little jingle, a laugh.

"Is any one there?" said a high, shrill voice.

Maggie got up.

"I'm here," she said.

Some one came forward; it was the girl of the blue dress who had smiled
at Maggie in chapel. She held out her hand--"I hope you don't think me
too awful. My name's Caroline Smith. How do you do?"

They shook hands. Maggie, still bewildered by sleep, said, stammering,
"Won't you sit down? I beg your pardon. My aunts--"

"Oh, it isn't the aunts I wanted to see," replied Miss Smith, laughing
so that a number of little bracelets jingled most tunefully together.
"I came to see you. We smiled at one another in chapel. It was your
first time, wasn't it? Didn't you think it all awfully quaint?"

"Won't you sit down?" said Maggie again, "and I'll ring for the lamp."

"Oh! don't ring for the lamp. I like the dusk. And we can make friends
so much better without a lamp. I always say if you want to know anybody
really well, don't have a light."

She seated herself near the fire, arranging her dress very carefully,
patting her hair beneath her hat, poking her shoes out from beneath her
skirts, then withdrawing them again. "Well, what do you think of it
all?"

Maggie stared. She did not know what