her former position on the hearth rug with her toasting fork.

"I like the gloaming, too," she said. "It's almost the only nice
thing which is economical! Everything else that one likes
specially costs too much! I wonder whether people with money do
enjoy all the great treats."

"Very soon grow blase, I expect," said Charles Osmond. "The
essence of a treat is rarity, you see."

"I suppose it is. But I think I could enjoy ever so many things
for years and years without growing blase," said Erica.

"Sometimes I like just to fancy what life might be if there were no
tiresome Christians, and bigots, and lawsuits."

Charles Osmond laughed to himself in the dim light; the remark was
made with such perfect sincerity, and it evidently had not dawned
on the speaker that she could be addressing any but one of her
father's followers. Yet the words saddened Him too. He just
caught a glimpse through them of life viewed from a directly
opposite point.

"Your father has a lawsuit going on now, has he not?" he observed,
after a little pause.

"Oh, yes, there is almost always one either looming in the distance
or actually going on. I don't think I can ever remember the time
when we were quite free. It must feel very funny to have no
worries of that kind. I think, if there wasn't always this great