reading, he made no motion to rise, but sat listening. Again they
came, three polite taps, seeming to say, "I should like to get in, but
pray don't disturb yourself."

"Come in," shouted the old preacher, not even looking around, for he
still seemed to doubt his sense of hearing.

The door opened quietly and Mr. Robert Weston appeared before us. Mary
had slipped from her place to meet him, and in Weston's greeting to her
I had my first lesson in what the world calls manner. How clumsy
seemed my own excuses for coming at all, compared to his pleasure at
finding her at home! He had been looking forward all afternoon to
seeing her again. As he shook hands with Luther, he was so hearty that
the old man took his guest by the shoulders and declared fervidly that
he was rejoiced that he had come. Weston did not glare at Perry
Thomas, nor at me either. We but added to his pleasure. Truly his cup
of joy was overflowing! And the famine in India--indeed--indeed! The
subject was one which interested him deeply, and if Mr. Warden cared
for it, he would send him several books on the far East which he had in
his library at home. He hoped that in return he might some time have
the pleasure of reading carefully, cover to cover, the fat volume that
Luther had spread across his knees. Meantime, he would insist on not
interrupting. But Mary must be comfortably seated before he could take
the place on the settee that Luther had arranged for him, and he must
hear all over again the story of the book, of Brother Matthias Pennel
and Sister Flora Martin. How I envied him! What must Perry and I seem
beside this lanky man with his kindly, easy ways! Perry, of course,
did not see it. He was smiling, for Weston was telling him that he had
stood at the Thomas gate for a half hour the very evening before,
listening to the strains of a violin. He hoped to hear that melody