The services commenced and proceeded in the usual form of the ritual, and the sermon which followed was excellent in moral and religious instruction, “if people would only live up to it,” as the good old lady remarked concerning the doctrine of total depravity. As for Owlet, for the first half hour she was as quiet and solemn as her namesake’s most ancient surviving ancestor; the second half hour she grew restless and fidgety; during the third half hour she yawned without the least attempt at disguise, and exclaimed: “Ah-h-h me!” startling the sexton, who was seated near her, and waking several old women who were decently dozing. Roma gently shook her head at the delinquent, and by so doing made matters worse, for the imp excused herself by saying, in an audible voice: “If I hadn’t said ‘Ah me!’ I should ’a’ busted.” Then she tried to conquer her restlessness and to keep quiet, and, indeed, she became very quiet, for her good intentions were rewarded by a sound sleep that lasted until the benediction was pronounced, and the people began to leave their pews. After all the congregation had left the church Roma still remained in her pew, to wait for the opportunity of speaking to her dear old friend and pastor, Dr. Shaw. He had gone into the vestry to lay off his surplice. As soon as he reappeared, in his black suit, Roma came out from her pew, leading little Owlet, and went into the chancel to speak to him. He advanced with outstretched hands, took hers affectionately, and, shaking them gently, said: “My dear child! I am so happy to see you. I had no idea that you had come back until I saw you in your pew to-day. When did you arrive?” “Only on last Tuesday, dear doctor, and as glad to get back to you as you can be to see me,” cordially replied Roma. “Right! right! right! my child! But who is this little one?” inquired the rector, taking the hand of Owlet in his own and looking tenderly down into her face. “Catherine Nouvellini is a young ward of mine. I hope you will come to see us soon, and hear all about her, and teach me how to do my duty by her.” “I will come, my child; be sure of that. You are going to remain among us now?” “I think so.” “Not going abroad to join your friends?” “I think not.” “I am glad to hear that. ‘Dwell among your own people,’ Roma.” “You will come to see me soon?” “To-morrow, my dear.” “Then I will not detain you any longer, dear friend. You must be fatigued with this long service. Indeed, you should have an assistant.” “The parish can’t afford it, my dear.” “But you are being worked to death!” “Well, it is better to rub out in labor than rust out in laziness.” “But you needn’t do either,” put in Owlet. “No, nor you won’t, neither, if you are possessed of common sense. ‘There’s reason in roasting eggs.’”