Kitty’s religion was not on the surface, a mere routine of form and ceremony. She knew in whom she had believed, and she told Him all about her trouble, with the simplicity of a little child, and asked to be forgiven so far as she was wrong, and that toward Lottie Steele she might feel as kindly as before. Kitty’s face was very bright after that talk with God, and when John came home at night it was a very pretty and gay little wife which sat at his table and told him she had at last seen Mrs. Steele, and thought her very handsome and very bright. Of the insult, however, she said nothing, and John never dreamed how little cause his wife had for speaking as kindly as she did of the thoughtless lady who had wounded her so sadly. Kitty did not go to the sewing meeting after that, but worked at home for the poor and needy, and felt far happier alone in her quiet sitting-room, with only her singing-bird for company, than she had when surrounded by ladies whom she did not even know by name. She did not expect Lottie Steele now, and never dreamed how near that unlucky affair at the sewing-room came to bringing about the very thing she had once so greatly desired. For Lottie was disturbed and annoyed at her own rudeness and wished she could in some way atone, and half made up her mind to call upon Mrs. Craig and make friends with her. But when at the dinner-table her husband himself broached the subject and suggested that she go with him that very evening, her pride took alarm at once. It was too soon; Kitty would of course think she came to conciliate her, and she would not humble herself like that before the wife of a clerk. So she declined rather crossly, and said she was too tired, and she didn’t believe Mrs. Craig wanted her to call, and she was certain “John” did not care to have her see in what a small way he was living. Amasa Steele never talked much, and now he only muttered something about being “so thundering proud,” and without a word as to where he was going, left the house soon after dinner; and Lottie saw no more of him until the clock was striking eleven. Then he found her at her prayers, for Lottie never omitted any duty of that kind, and when her husband came home she was kneeling by the bedside with her fanciful dressing-gown sweeping the floor, and trying to ask forgiveness for having wounded Kitty Craig. Amasa had not much faith in Lottie’s religion, and without waiting for her devotions to end, he asked “where the deuce his slippers were, that he could never find them?”