encounters. To-day Mr. Bond's honest sympathy with his outspoken
conviction found a sensitive chord in the young man's stout-seeming
heart.

Conversation drifted to lesser things until the ample meal was
finished, and the little company broke up. Mr. Gray was sure his guest
would wish a little rest and quiet in preparation for the evening
service, which assurance happily freed himself for the usual nap which
his soul coveted after the Sunday early dinner. Mrs. Gray departed for
her own pretty room, her dainty dressing gown, silk draperies, and
gentle doze. Winifred went to her room to resume the battle that was
on, Hubert betook himself to his accustomed walk.

Walking down the avenue graced by his own home, Hubert glanced across
the street and saw, to his regret, the handsome figure and airy step of
George Frothingham. He hoped that gentleman did not see him, for he
disliked him and did not wish to be bored by a conversation. Hubert
disliked Frothingham on two separate counts: first, because he was not
the sterling quality of man Hubert thought he ought to be, and secondly
because, being such a man as he was, he still dared raise his miserable
eyes toward Winifred. More than any other object in the world Hubert
loved his sister, and his grief was very hot and sore when it became
apparent that she and George were "as good as engaged," as all their
circle of friends affirmed. They were not actually so, the "George"
and "Winifred" terms resulting from an acquaintance since childhood,
and had Hubert been a praying man he would have prayed that such a
consummation might never occur. He voiced his sentiments unmistakably
to Winifred, but on this point they could not agree.

"It is one of your unreasonable dislikes," she said, and so they came