nt. You must forgive me,
and as you know I am too nice to be a clergyman--"

"Oh, I beg your pardon. How rude I have been," cried Erica, blushing
anew; "but you did make me say it."

"Of course, and I take it as a high compliment from you," said Charles
Osmond, laughing again at the recollection. "Come, may we not seal
our friendship? We have been sufficiently frank with each other to be
something more than acquaintances for the future."

Erica held out her hand and found it taken in a strong, firm clasp,
which somehow conveyed much more than an ordinary handshake.

"And, after all, you ARE too nice for a clergyman!" she thought to
herself. Then, as a fresh idea crossed her mind, she suddenly exclaimed:
"But you came to tell us about Mr. Randolph's roughs, did you not? How
came you to care that we should know beforehand?"

"Why, naturally I hoped that a disturbance might be stopped."

"Is it natural?" questioned Erica. "I should have thought it more
natural for you to think with your own party."

"But peace and justice and freedom of speech must all stand before party
questions."

"Yet you think that we are wrong, and that Christianity is right?"

"Yes, but to my mind perfect justice is part of Christianity."

"Oh," said Erica, in a tone which meant unutterable things.

"You think that Christians do not show perfect justice to you?" said
Charles Osmond, reading her thoughts.

"I can't say I think they do," she replied. Then, suddenly firing up at
the recollection of her afternoon's experiences, she said: "They are not
just to us, though they preach justice; they are not loving, though they
talk about love. If they want us to think their religion true, I wonder
they don't practice it a little more and preach it less. What is the use
of talking of 'brotherly kindness and charity,' when they hardly treat
us like human beings, when they make up wicked lies about us, and will
hardly let us sit in the same room with them!"

"Come, now, we really are sitting in the same room," said Charles
Osmond, smiling.

"Oh, dear, what am I to do!" exclaimed Erica. "I can't remember that you
are one of them! You are so very unlike most."

"I think," said Charles Osmond, "you have come across some very bad
specimens."

Erica, in her heart, considered her visitor as the exception which
proved the rule; but not wishing to be caught tripping again, she
resolved to say no more upon the subject.

"Let us talk of something el