said, nervously mopping his face with his
handkerchief. "Maria is so fond of managing! But--but it was as my
wife I wanted your help."

"_My wife._" Kitty was not surprised. At eighteen one reasons as the
bird flies. Since she passed the six straight evergreens yonder she
had learned that life was not an old book-house, a few sad and merry
tunes, meals, and a bench to dream on. It was work--for Christ. Not
far-off pagans, but little children with sin and disease heavy upon
them, asking her to take it away.

She might want stamina or any other intellectual power, but her
emotions were hot and near the surface: these children and their
misery wounded and bruised her as they had never done Mr. Muller or
his sister: her sense of duty and affection for her God, too, was as
real and urgent with her as that of a dog for his master.

"Take me home now," she said quietly.

"But, Catharine--This is no answer. And my love for you is of such
long standing!" pleaded the little man, whose mouth, being once opened
by his passion, found it difficult to close. He forgot, too, the
hundreds of eyes staring at him over the soup-spoons.

"Shall we go out?" said Kitty with an impatient laugh, which would not
be polite. "There's too much beef here. And cabbage."

They passed Miss Muller, who nodded down on Catharine from the heights
of brusque sincerity of the Woman's Rights people: "Come and see me,
my dear. You and I shall get on very comfortably, I dare say;" to
which Kitty replied with her old-fashioned manner, which had a fine
courteous quality in it, whether it meant anything or not.

They were out in the street again. The sun was still hot and glaring.
Past the new row of Morse's blue-painted shops, down the factory
alley, all along the cinder path, Mr. Muller pressed and urged his
suit. She heard every word with sharp distinctness.

The children: her work for Christ. Under all was a dull consciousness
that this thing had been coming on her since the day, years ago, when
she had suffered conviction at a revival and been converted. All His
followers must give their lives to His service. Give their lives!
These were words which to the poor little girl had always been
terribly real, never a hackneyed form. Now the time had come, there
was a dreadful wrenching at her heart.

"Oh, God! oh, my God! I want to do what's right!" cried Kitty
silently, looking away to the farthest horizon.

Mr. Muller remembered by this time some of h