thought her looking quite well.

"She's an odd child," said Sophia. "I did not tell you, mamma, what I
found her doing the other day. She was trying on the white frock she had
this spring when she was confirmed. It's unlike her to do a thing like
that for no reason; and when I teased her she began to cry, and then
began speaking to me about religion. She has been puzzled by the views
your housekeeper holds, Mr. Trenholme, and excited by old Cameron's
teaching about the end of the world."

"I don't think it's the end of the world he's prophesying exactly," said
Trenholme, musingly. "The Adventists believe that the earth will not be
ruined, but glorified by the Second Advent."

"Children should not hear of such abstruse, far-off things," observed
Mrs. Rexford; "it does harm; but with no nursery, no schoolroom, what
can one do?"

Trenholme told them of Alec's telegram, and something of what he knew
concerning Bates. His own knowledge was scanty, but he had not even said
all he might have said when Mrs. Rexford politely regretted that her
husband and son, taking advantage of the rain, had both gone to the next
town to see some machinery they were buying, and would be away over
Sunday, otherwise they would not have missed the opportunity offered by
Sunday's leisure to call upon the newcomers.

"Oh, he's quite a common working-man, I fancy," added Trenholme,
hastily, surprised at the gloss his words had thrown on Bates's
position, and dimly realising that his way of putting things might
perhaps at some other times be as misleading as it had just that moment