had
become a treasure in many humble homes. No longer like that of which
Joyce had spoken at Fair Acres--rarely opened and seldom read--nor like
the one described by Hannah More herself as the only one she found at
Cheddar, used to prop up a flower-pot in the window!

There was a large dinner-party of seventeen at Barley Wood after the
meeting, and this was a novelty to the two girls, who had never before
sat down with so many at a table. Charlotte was in good spirits, having
captured a pale-faced young clergyman, to whom she talked in her
sentimental fashion, and who seemed almost as much fascinated by her, as
she intended he should be.

Joyce, on the contrary, had no time to think of herself. She was
intently listening to all that was said, and the conversation of those
refined and educated gentlemen charmed her. It was impossible not to be
struck with her beautiful face, glowing with interest and, though silent
herself, showing that she was drinking in all that was said around her.

It was the same afterwards in Mrs. More's sitting-room, where all the
guests gathered to sip fragrant tea and coffee, and talk over the
burning questions of the day.

The good Bishop of Ohio, who had laboured long in the field abroad, as
Hannah More had laboured at home, knew well how rough was the road,
which those who desire the highest good of others, must ever tread.

Hannah More was speaking of the deep anxiety that the condition of the
Mendip miners caused her, and how, of all her work, that seemed to be
bringing forth the least fruit.

"An ear here and there is gathered," she said; "but the harvest is scant
indeed."

Joyce, who had been listening earnestly, said:

"Susan Priday is an 'ear,' I am sure. She seemed to try to do all she
could, and--"

The Bishop turned quickly. Joyce almost thought she ought not to have
spoken, and that the Bishop and Mrs. More would think her forward, but
the good old man said:

"That is right, my dear young lady. It is well to remind our dear friend
that the grains she has scattered are not all in vain. Some will fall on
the good ground, and by God's blessing spring up and bear fruit. Who is
Susan Priday?"

"Come nearer the Bishop, Joyce," Mrs. More said, kindly, "and tell him
your experience of Mendip miners, and of Susan also."

Joyce did as she was told, and soon forgot her nervousness at being
called upon to talk to so great a person as a Bishop, as she narrated
with sweet simpli