ning all right," her mother said. "There is
no church for you to go to at this time of day, that I know of; and if
there were, I should think it very ridiculous to go again. If you want
to think, you could think about good things, I should hope, on the
Pincian. What is there to hinder you?"

"Only everything I should see and hear, mother."

"Hinder you from thinking about good things!"

"Hinder me from thinking about anything," said Dolly, laughing a little.

"Seriously, Miss Dolly," said Lawrence, who stood by, hat in hand,
ready to go; the Pincian Hill Sunday evening was something he quite
approved of;--"seriously, do you think there is anything _wrong_ in
sitting up there for an hour or two, and seeing the beautiful sunset
colours, and hearing the music?"

"She's a little Puritan," said her father; "and the Puritans were
always an obstinate set, Lawrence; always, and in every nation and
people. I wonder why the two things should go together."

"What two things, father?"

"What you call Puritanism and obstinacy."

"I suppose because those you call Puritans love the truth," said Dolly;
"and so hold to it."

"And do you not think other people, who are not Puritans, also love the
truth, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked.

"I don't think anybody loves the truth he disobeys," Dolly said with a
gentle shake of her head.

"There!" said her mother. "There's Dolly all over. She is right, and
nobody else is right. I wonder what she supposes is to become of all
the rest of the world! Everybody in Rome will be on the Pincian
to-night except Dolly Copley. And every other mother but me will have
her daughter with her."

In answer to which Dolly kissed her, pulled the strings of her bonnet
into a prettier bow, and looked at her with sweet, shining eyes, which
said as plainly as possible without words that Mrs. Copley knew better.
The party went off, nevertheless; and Lawrence, lingering till the
others had turned their backs, held out his hand to Dolly.

"Will you tell me," said he, "as a favour, what you think is the harm
of what we are doing?"

"You are just robbing the King of heaven and earth," Dolly answered
gravely.

"Robbing! Of what?"

"Of time which He says is His, and of honour which He says ought to be
His."

"How?"

"'The seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God.'"

"This is not the seventh; it is the first."

"Quibbling, Mr. St. Leger. It is not the seventh from Monday, but it
_is_ the sevent