doing. It was not, therefore, to be expected, that he would spend time
to read even the titles of Mrs. Coolbroth's books. But Margaret and
Susan, bright, sensible children then, were beginning to feel the
thirst often felt in childhood--the restless craving of the spirit for
something new: no wonder, then, that they seized the fruit so "pleasant
to the eye," and as it seemed to them "desirable to make one wise."
Thus the poor girls were lured from the plain homely path, which, plain
and homely as it is, always proves at last the way of pleasantness and
the path of peace. They knew that people called them odd, and in this
they gloried. Fanny Brighton they regarded as a rude girl, who, though
she vexed them, never put them out of humor with themselves. But now,
strange as it may appear, the quiet Christian words and manner of Emma
Lindsay had done this, and they could not tell why. Those words and
that manner, so courteous and kind, were not calculated to wound, yet
they felt wounded. Emma had not done it--it was the _truth_ dwelling in
her heart, and showing itself in its most appropriate dress, which is
Christian courtesy of manner.

Margaret sat down that afternoon, with a desire to redeem some of the
time which, when she thought of Emma, seemed indeed to be passing away;
and Susan, when she meditated on what Emma had said of Him who never
scorned the humble paths of usefulness, and through his life-long went
about doing good, felt that it was time to examine the spirit that
would worship, without _bearing_ the Saviour's cross.




CHAPTER III.