to the Hall fortune; but Lewis's law practice, which was
hardly more than conveyancing now and then, was helped out
by a sawmill which the Halls had owned for two generations.
So, as things were, they were able to live in humdrum prosperity
which gave Lewis plenty of time to browse about among his
grandfather's old theological books, and by-and-by to become
a very sound Hebrew scholar, and spared Athalia much wholesome
occupation which would have been steadying to her eager nature.
She was one of those people who express every passing emotion,
as a flower expresses each wind that sways it upon its stalk.
But with expression the emotion ended.

"But she isn't fickle," Lewis had defended her once to a privileged
relation who had made the accusation, basing it on the fact that Athalia
had sewed her fingers off for the Missionary Society one winter and done
nothing the next--"Athalia ISN'T fickle," Lewis explained; "fickle people
are insincere. Athalia is perfectly sincere, but she is temporary;
that's all. Anyway, she wants to do something else this winter,
and 'Thalia must have her head."

"Your head's better than hers, young man," the venturesome
relative insisted.

"But it must be her head and not mine, Aunty, when it comes
to doing what she thinks is right, even if it's wrong,"
he said, smiling.

"Well, tell her she's a little fool!" cried the old lady, viciously.

"You can't do that with 'Thalia," Lewis explained, patiently, "because it