a selfish woman outside of her own home.
She was good to the sick and the needy, she gave of her time and
strength. In the home there was a sense of ownership, of the
self-appropriation so often termed duty. Everything had gone on smoothly
for years. She had settled that Chilian would not marry. Such a bookish
man, whose interests lay chiefly with men, did not need a wife when
there was some one at hand to make him comfortable. And that he surely
was. He understood and enjoyed it. He had only to suggest to have. Her
affection for him was like that for a younger brother. Even Eunice could
not minister so well for his comfort, though, like Mary of Bible lore,
she often added a delicate pleasure in listening to matters or
incidents that interested him.

Elizabeth had settled to the idea of a little heathen soul that she was
to lead aright. Missionary work in godless lands had not made much
advance and, having no mother, who was there to warn her of the great
peril of her soul? Seafaring men were not much given to thought of the
other world. Perhaps there was some grace for them in the hours of
peril, she had heard they prayed to God in an extremity; and there was
the dying thief. But on land no one had a right to count on this.

The child had changed everything. Even Eunice seemed to have lost the
sharp distinction. Miss Winn belonged to the ungodly, that was
clear--though she was upright, honest, neat, and in some ways sensible.
But her ideas about the child were foreign and reprehensible--dangerous
even. The child was no worse than others, not as bad as some, for she
had either by nature or training a delicate respect for the property of
others. She never meddled. She asked few questions even when she stood
by the kitchen table and watched the mysteries of cake and pie making
and the delicacies of cooking. It was the right to herself that annoyed
Elizabeth. People had hardly begun to suspect that children had any
rights.

"But if she went away? If she was swallowed up in the vortex of the more
populous city"--greater, Salem would not have admitted. "If the child's
soul was finally lost, would she be quite clear? Would she have done all
that she could for her salvation?"

She thought of it as she prepared the supper. She surveyed the
inviting-looking table and then rang the bell. Eunice brought in a
handful of flowers. Chilian came--and Miss Winn.

"Cynthia has gone to bed, she does not want any supper," was her quie