that she would support my protests; but calmly and quietly she spoke
from the darkness, like a voice from another world, "Go on, Uncle
Luther; I want Mr. Hope to hear this."

Now had Mary Warden called me by my Christian name she would have
followed the custom of our valley and it would have passed unnoticed;
but when she used that uncalled-for "Mister" her uncle looked around
sharply. First he tried to pierce the shadows and see her, but she
drew farther and farther into the darkness. So he gazed at me. He was
beginning to suspect that after all I had not come to see him. Had
Mark Hope become proud? Was Mary falling again into the ways of the
wicked world from which he was striving so hard to wean her, that she
should thus address one of the humblest of God's creatures, a mere man?
Old Luther rubbed his spectacles very carefully and slowly; blowing on
them and rubbing them again; finally adjusting them, he leaned forward
and tried to study the girl's face, to find there some solution of the
puzzle.

"Read to Mr. Hope," she said clearly, and with just a touch of defiance.

Had she used some endearing term the old man could not have frowned
harder than when he turned on me then, and eyed me through his great
spectacles.

"Yes, read to us, Luther," said I calmly; "Miss Warden and I will
listen."

"God has been very good to me," said the old man solemnly, "and I've
not yet heard Him call me Mister Luther Warden. I s'pose with you and
your kind, when He comes to you, He calls you Mister Mark Hope."