They both spoke in a subdued voice, and cast furtive glances at Mr. Maxfield, as though fearful of being reprehended for interrupting the evening devotions; but, as they spoke, he closed his hymn-book, and drew his chair away from the table towards the fireside. Upon this signal, Betty Grimshaw rose and bustled out of the room, declaring that she must see about getting the supper; for that that little Sarah could never be trusted to see to the roasted potatoes alone. There was a suspicious alacrity in Betty's departure, suggestive that she experienced some sense of relief at the breaking-up of the devotions. James soon sauntered out of the room after his aunt. Mr. Powell rose. "Good night," said he, holding out his hand to the old man. "Nay; won't you stay and eat with us, Brother Powell? The supper will be ready directly." Mr. Powell shook his head. "You know I never eat supper," he said, smiling. "Well, well; perhaps you're in the right," responded old Max, very readily. "And I am not clear," continued the preacher, "but that it would be better for you to leave off the habit." "Me? Oh, no! I need it for my health's sake." "But would it not suit your health better, to take your supper early? Say at six o'clock or so; so that you should not go to bed with a full stomach." "No; it wouldn't," answered the old man, crabbedly. David Powell stood meditating, with his hand to his chin. "I am not clear about it," he murmured. But Maxfield either did not hear, or chose to ignore the words. "Father, may I go upstairs to Mrs. Errington?" asked Rhoda, softly; "I don't want any supper." The old man grunted out an inarticulate sound, and seemed to hesitate. "Go upstairs to Mrs. Errington?" he said, answering his daughter, but looking sideways at the preacher. "Let's see; you promised, didn't you?" "Yes; you gave me leave, and I promised before--before we knew that Mr. Powell would come to-night." Rhoda was gifted with a sweet voice by nature, and she spoke with a purer accent, and expressed herself with greater propriety, than the other members of her family. Mrs. Errington had amused herself with teaching the motherless girl, who had been a lonely, shy, little child when their acquaintance first began. And Rhoda was a quick and apt scholar. "Well--a promise--I can't have you break your word. Don't you stay late, mind. Not one minute after ten o'clock; do you mind, Rhoda?" Rhoda, with a bright smile of pleasure on her face, promised to obey, and left the room with a step which it cost her an effort to make as staid as she knew would be approved by her father and Mr. Powell. When she got outside the door, they heard her run along the passage as light and as swift as a greyhound.