young man was comely, and because she was young and wanted
companionship.

"I don't know," she said with perfect frankness; "my aunt will be so
vexed with me when she hears that I've been to the Smiths that I don't
believe I'll be allowed to think of anything this good while."

Her smile, her girlishness, seemed at last to pierce beneath the armour
of his devout abstraction. Fortune at work chooses her a fine-edged
instrument, and Joseph Smith, with unerring but probably half conscious
instinct, had sent the right messenger. The cloud of serious intent on
the youth's face broke now into a sudden admiring glance, half playful
yet fully earnest. His gray eyes held for a moment gracious parley with
hers. "Wilt thou," he asked, still smiling, "give it as excuse in the
day of judgment that they would not let thee think?"

"N-n-no." She was more struck with the inadequacy of the excuse than
with the fact that she had a better one if she had chosen to give it.

He was again grave, but he was not now unappreciative. "Thou art very
fair, and beauty to a young woman is, no doubt, a great snare. I will
wrestle in prayer for thee."

He was going down the brick walk between the masses of drenched flowers.
"Don't," cried Susannah faintly, "don't do that." But he did not hear
her.