ime in their lives both of them, went to
Sunday school. The child very important and expectant; the teacher very
gentle and very grave indeed.

Faith had made her arrangements the Sunday before; so she and Charles
twelfth proceeded at once to the place assigned her. At the opening
services the king of Sweden stared mightily. Faith looked at nothing.
She had a feeling that other children and other teachers were nearer to
her than she wished they were; and she was a little uncertain how best
to take hold of the odd little piece of humanity intrusted to her care.
However, when the reading and the singing were over Faith began a long
low talk to him about some Bible story, diverging as she went on to an
account of the other world, and the two ways that lead to it, and the
two sorts of people that travel them. And becoming exceedingly
interested herself, she fastened the eyes of Charles the twelfth in a
way that shewed his thoughts were cleaving to hers. Faith's own
thoughts were cleaving elsewhere. The things she said were simply said;
her words were the plainest; her illustrations just at his hand; but
the voice in which they were given would alone have won the ear of a
child; and whatever other impression her words made upon his mind, the
fixed conclusion in which he was left at the ending was, that whatever
way _she_ was travelling was the right one!

It was a beautiful fair first of October; still and sunny; but if it
had not, it would probably have been a fair day to Faith after that
beginning of it. She looked as if it was, in the church, and on the way
home, and at the quiet dinner table; her face was a transcript of the
day; still and sunny. It seemed to be true, her promise that the
annoyance of yesterday would be nothing to her to-day. There was no
shadow of it in sight. If there was a shadow anywhere at the table, it
was upon Mrs. Derrick,--a half jealous fear that her child would be
less hers by becoming a Christian--a half uneasy feeling of the new
state of things, did cloud her heart a little, though almost unknown to
her self She would not have confessed to any such cloud--and
practically it was not there: no straw of hindrance did she put in
Faith's way; indeed she seemed rather fearful of touching the matter in
any wise. It was rather from curiosity than anything else, that she
said--as they were both getting ready for afternoon church,

"Well child, how did you like going to Sunday school?"

Faith's an