he minister grumbled his way to the barn, highly incensed at Bud, and
disturbed the calm of the evening view of Margaret's mountain by his
complaints when he returned. He wasn't accustomed to handling horses,
and he thought Bud might have stayed up and attended to it himself. Bud
chuckled in his loft and stole down the back kitchen roof while the
minister ate his late supper. Bud would never leave the old horse to
that amateur's tender mercies, but he didn't intend to make it easy for
the amateur. Margaret, from her window-seat watching the night in the
darkness, saw Bud slip off the kitchen roof and run to the barn, and she
smiled to herself. She liked that boy. He was going to be a good
comrade.

The Sabbath morning dawned brilliantly, and to the homesick girl there
suddenly came a sense of desolation on waking. A strange land was this,
without church-bells or sense of Sabbath fitness. The mountain, it is
true, greeted her with a holy light of gladness, but mountains are not
dependent upon humankind for being in the spirit on the Lord's day. They
are "continually praising Him." Margaret wondered how she was to get
through this day, this dreary first Sabbath away from her home and her
Sabbath-school class, and her dear old church with father preaching. She
had been away, of course, a great many times before, but never to a
churchless community. It was beginning to dawn upon her that that was
what Ashland was--a churchless community. As she recalled the walk to
the school and the ride through the village she had seen nothing that
looked like a church, and all the talk had been of the missionary. They
must have services of some sort, of course, and probably that flabby,
fish-eyed man, her fellow-boarder, was to preach; but her heart turned
sick at thought of listening to a man who had confessed to the
unbeliefs that he had. Of course, he would likely know enough to keep
such doubts to himself; but he had told her, and nothing he could say
now would help or uplift her in the least.

She drew a deep sigh and looked at her watch. It was late. At home the
early Sabbath-school bells would be ringing, and little girls in white,
with bunches of late fall flowers for their teachers, and holding hands
with their little brothers, would be hurrying down the street. Father
was in his study, going over his morning sermon, and mother putting her
little pearl pin in her collar, getting ready to go to her Bible class.
Margaret decided