her. What is she like?"

"Like nothing," said Alfred, with great promptness. "Did you ever know a
person named Joy?"

"No;--what a singular name."

"Well, it fits. She is very far removed from mirth, and she is not what
people call gay, and she is not outspoken apparently at any time,
though, as I say, I do not know her; but there is something in her face
that fits the name; I do not know what it is. Sometimes I think it is
the shining of Christ's face reflected in her; but the puzzle is, why do
not other faces have it? Faces which belong to him?"

"Perhaps there is a difference in the degree of belonging."

Gracie spoke the words very gently, wondering meanwhile at the way in
which this thought chimed in with hers about Flossy.

"Oh, there is. But why should there be? If I belong to Christ, I
_belong_, don't I? There is no half-way service possible. Why do I
not so look that others take knowledge of me that I have been with
Jesus?"

"How do you know but they do?"

"Ah, I know. I know too well. They are more likely a great deal to take
knowledge that I have been with Satan. I feel the frown all over my face
a great deal of the time; and the world goes astray a great many times,
when I suppose it is just myself that is wrong. But, Miss Dennis, I