“What a shame to take you away just when we had all got to know and like you! I suppose we shall have some old fogey now who will preach against dancin' an' spellin'-bees an' surprise-parties. And, of course, he won't like me, or come here an' call as often as you do--makin' the other girls jealous. I shall hate the change!” And in her innocent excitement she slowly lifted her brown eyes to his. “You know you're talking nonsense, Belle,” he replied, with grave earnestness. “I've come for your answer. If you wish me to stay, if you really care for me, I shall refuse this offer.” “You don't tell!” she exclaimed. “Refuse ten thousand dollars a year and a church in Chicago to stay here in Kansas City! I know I shouldn't! Why,” and she fixed her eyes on his as she spoke, “you must be real good even to think of such a thing. But then, you won't refuse,” she added, pouting. “No one would,” she concluded, with profound conviction. “Oh, yes,” answered the minister, moving to her and quietly putting both hands on her waist, while his voice seemed to envelope and enfold her with melodious tenderness. “Oh, yes, I shall refuse it, Belle, if _you_ wish me to; refuse it as I should ten times as great a prize, as I think I should refuse--God forgive me!--heaven itself, if you were not there to make it beautiful.” While speaking he drew her to him gently; her body yielded to his touch, and her gaze, as if fascinated, was drawn into his. But when the flow of words ceased, and he bent to kiss her, the spell seemed to lose its power over her. In an instant she wound herself out of his arms, and with startled eyes aslant whispered: “Hush! he's coming! Don't you hear his step?” As Mr. Letgood went again towards her with a tenderly reproachful and incredulous “Now, Belle,” she stamped impatiently on the floor while exclaiming in a low, but angry voice, “Do take care! That's the Deacon's step.” At the same moment her companion heard it too. The sounds were distinct on the wooden side-walk, and when they ceased at the little gate four or five yards from the house he knew that she was right. He pulled himself together, and with a man's untimely persistence spoke hurriedly: “I shall wait for your answer till Sunday morning next. Before then you must have assured me of your love, or I shall go to Chicago--” Mrs. Hooper's only reply was a contemptuous, flashing look that succeeded in reducing the importunate clergyman to silence--just in time--for as the word “Chicago” passed his lips the handle of the door turned, and Deacon Hooper entered the room.