“Oh, no,” Mr. King reassured her, “only you have not depended enough on obedience. I will call upon my old man to-morrow and tell him these two stories of disciplinary government.” “You are not going home, to-night, old fellow,” urged Roger, “the girls will give us some music. We four will make a fine quartette.” “Miss Judith, did you know I have a housekeeper?” he asked, turning brightly to Judith. “I am very glad.” “So are we all of us,” declared Roger. “A man and his wife I have taken in. She’s a good cook; the house is a different affair; I wish you would come and see. The man gets work among the farmers and takes care of my horse, which I used to do myself. They are both grateful for a home and I am very happy to be set in a family.” Judith fell asleep thinking of Aunt Rody’s beef-tea, and wondering if Aunt Affy would remember to keep the water bag at her poor, cold feet. It was luxury to be at home again; to be at home and in the way of obedience. That was God’s will on earth as it was in Heaven. The next day the gentlemen went fishing and Marion and Judith kept the long day to themselves. In the afternoon Marion and Nettie had their weekly history talk, and, Judith shut herself up in the study and wrote a story about a girl who learned a new lesson in the way of obedience. The story was from a child’s standpoint; in writing for children she was keeping her heart as fresh as the heart of a little child. “Judith,” said Roger that evening as the “quartette” were together in the study, “I have a thought of work for you; you smell work from afar as the warhorse scents the battle; how would you like to write up the childhood of a dozen famous women? The study itself will be delightful, and the writing more so. Call the series: ‘_When I was a Girl_.’” “I would _like_ it,” was the unhesitating reply, “if I can do it.” “You can do it. You can do anything you like.” “Then I will,” she decided, thus encouraged. “But the books?” said Richard King, ready to place his own bookshelves at her service. “Oh, the books are easily found. There’s our school library, and the Public Library in Dunellen, and everybody’s house to ransack in Bensalem. Besides, my own library is no mean affair. Books and fishing are my laziness and luxury. No hurried work, Judith, remember. You shall not read the first one of the series to me until a month from to-day.” “Are you such a slow worker yourself?” Roger’s friend inquired. “I am a plodder. And I believe in other people plodding. I believe that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains. I have sermons laid away to mellow that I’ve been six months on.” “But you do other writing and studying in the mean time,” said Judith. “Oh, yes, while the seed is sprouting.” “Kenney, you are planning something.” “Yes, I am planning to salt down a barrel of sermons before I take a new charge.” “Mellowing, salting, sprouting,” laughed Judith. “Roger, a new charge!” exclaimed Marion, startled.