," said his wife.

"Well, I have seen all there is to be seen; and now I am ready for
something else. Aren't you?"

"But, father," said Dolly, "I suppose, just because Sorrento is what
you call a lazy place it is good for mother."

"Change is good for her too--hey, wife?"

"You will have a change next week, father; you know we are going for
that visit to the Thayers."

"We shall not want to stay there long," said Mr. Copley; "and then
we'll move."

Nobody answered. Dolly looked out sorrowfully upon the beautiful bright
water. Sorrento had been a place of peace to her. Must she go so soon?
The scent of myrtles and roses and oranges came in bewilderingly at the
open window, pleading the cause of "lazy" Sorrento with wonderfully
persuasive flatteries. Was there any other place in the world so sweet?
Dolly clung to it, in heart; yearned towards it; the glories of the
southern sun were what she had never imagined, and she longed to stay
to enjoy and wonder at them. The fruits, the flowers, the sunny air,
the fulness and variedness of the colouring on land and sea, the
leisure and luxury of bountiful nature,--Dolly was loath, loath to
leave them all. No other Sorrento, she was ready to believe, would ever
reveal itself to her vision; and she shrank a little from the somewhat
rough way she had been travelling before and must travel again. And now
in the further way, Rupert, her helper and standby, would not be with
her. Then again came the words of Christmas Eve to her--"Who shall
separate us from the love of Christ?"--and with the words came the
recollection of the new bit of service Dolly had found to do in her
return and answer to that love. Yet she hesitated, and her heart began
to beat faster, and she made no move until her father began to ask if
it were not time to leave the moonlight and go to bed. Dolly came from
the window, then to the table where the lowered lamp stood.

"Mother and father, I should like to do something," she said with an
interrupted breath. "Would you mind--may I--will you let me read a
chapter to you before we go?"

"A chapter of what?" said her father; though he knew well enough.

"The Bible."

There was a pause. Mrs. Copley stirred uneasily, but left the answer
for her husband to give. It came at last, coldly.

"There is no need for you to give yourself that trouble, my dear. I
suppose we can all read the Bible for ourselves."

"But not as a family, father?"

"What do you mean, D