n there came a shout from somebody
kneeling on the oilcloth near the stove and pushing sticks of dry wood
through its blazing open door.

"Oh, Marjie, what happened to you?"

"Something _didn't_ happen. I didn't have my spelling or my examples. I
read the "Lucy" book in school instead," she confessed dolefully.

"Why, _Marjie_!" was her mother's exclamation, but it brought the color
to Marjorie's face and suffused her eyes.

"We are to have company for tea," announced the figure kneeling on the
oilcloth as she banged the stove door. "A stranger; the evangelist Mr.
Horton told us about Sunday."

"I know," said Marjorie. "I've read about him in _Pilgrim's Progress_; he
showed Christian the way to the Wicket Gate."

Linnet jumped to her feet and shook a chip from her apron. "O, Goosie!
Don't you know any better?"

Fourteen-year-old Linnet always knew better.

"Where is he?" questioned Marjorie.

"In the parlor. Go and entertain him. Mother and I must get him a good
supper: cold chicken, canned raspberries, currant jelly, ham, hot
biscuit, plain cake and fruit cake and--butter and--tea."

"I don't know how," hesitated Marjorie.

"Answer his questions, that's all," explained Linnet promptly. "I've told
him all I know and now it's your turn."

"I don't like to answer questions," said Marjorie, still doubtfully.

"Oh, only your age and what you study and--if--you are a Christian."

"And he tells you how if you don't know how," said Marjorie, eagerly;
"that's what he's for."

"Yes," replied her mother, approvingly, "run in and let him talk to you."

Very shyly glad of the opportunity, and yet dreading it inexpressibly,
Marjorie hung her school clothing away and laid her satchel on the shelf
in the hall closet, and then stood wavering in the closet, wondering if
she dared go in to see Evangelist. He had spoken very kindly to
Christian. She longed, oh, how she longed! to find the Wicket Gate, but
would she dare ask any questions? Last Sabbath in church she had seen a
sweet, beautiful face that she persuaded herself must be Mercy, and now
to have Evangelist come to her very door!

What was there to know any better about? She did not care if Linnet had
laughed. Linnet never cared to read _Pilgrim's Progress_.

It is on record that the first book a child reads intensely is the book
that will influence all the life.

At ten Marjorie had read _Pilgrim's Progress_ intensely. Timidly, with
shining eyes, she stood