unday things are laid out,
Richard, and you'd better get a wash; you'll feel fresher." But the only
answer she received was a curt: "Mind your own business, woman."

Meanwhile, Richard himself was feeling his own misery more deeply than
he would have confessed to a living soul. "I'd like to escape from it
all; but I've gone too far; I've had my chances, if ever a man had, and
I'd like to know what good'll come of my goin' to the Hall and seein'
all those folks again; it'll only make me more miserable than I am. I
wish I hadn't promised, and I've half a mind to turn into the 'Blue
Boar' instead," muttered the man to himself.

"Richard," said his wife as she put on bonnet and shawl, and picked up
her Bible and hymn-book, after tea was over; "I'm going up to the
chapel, but the sermon will be over in plenty of time for me to get back
to the Mission-place. You'll be sure to be dressed and ready waiting for
me."

"I shan't promise nothin'," growled Richard; but although Margaret heard
the words as she went out, she left the house with a light heart.
Altogether uncertain of his own intention, Richard strode about the
room, his pipe in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets.

"Anyhow," he said, "I may as well have a look at the water," and going
to the sink he washed himself for the first time that day. And then he
sat down, making no further attempt to prepare himself for his wife's
return. "She never lets a feller have any peace," he said, inwardly
blaming her for his mental unrest. He was sitting in his chair, still
smoking, when Margaret returned.

"O, Richard, you are not ready, and we shall be late!" she said.

"I never told you I was goin'," he answered, scowling at her.

"No, but you told Mr. Brown so, last night; and if you aren't there
soon, he's sure to come round, and see what's the matter, as he would be
certain to suppose you'd keep your promise unless something had
happened."

Surely it was heaven-sent wisdom that breathed in the words with which
she answered Richard's evasions. She was unprepared for the sudden
effect of her reply. Rising in haste, he said: "Here, get me my things
as quick as you can; I don't want that feller again." In a few minutes,
neatly dressed, Richard went up the street with his rejoicing wife.

They were singing as the two entered; but Margaret walked boldly up to
the top of the room, and Richard was reluctantly compelled to follow
her. He would have chosen to have slipped in