After the little bustle subsided, Marion asked: “Roger, why didn’t you tell him about Ruth of Moab—Judith and I are just reading _Ruth_, who married one of the chosen people, and, if Samuel wrote the story, he made the sweetest love-story that ever was written—and she was one in the direct line of the ancestry of Christ.” “Because that would have been in confirmation of his point,” said Roger, breaking an egg carefully. “I don’t see how,” replied Marion. Judith listened; Roger never talked for the sake of argument; he pondered before he spoke again. “She deliberately chose the God of Israel to be her God, giving herself to His worship and His people; Naomi had taught her; Naomi was a missionary—love of her mother-in-law was not all that decided her to leave her gods and her native land.” “I thought it was because she loved Naomi,” said Judith, “and that was so lovely.” “But Naomi’s son married her first,” argued Marion; “he had no right to do that.” “Perhaps he was punished for it; perhaps both sons were punished for it; who knows?” “But you do not think Jean has done wrong,” said Judith, sympathetically; “it will break her heart if she ever reasons herself into believing she has disobeyed.” “Well, no,” replied Roger, dryly; “especially as David expects to confess his faith at the next communion. He would not do it before for fear that he would do it to please Jean. He did not dare tell her. He has told no one but myself.” “Then, Roger, why didn’t you tell Uncle Cephas?” asked Judith, in astonishment. “I thought he might as well learn that, even in Bensalem, there are some people he may misjudge. He knows Bensalem by head, once in a while, better than he knows it by heart.” “Did you say you would take Judith to Meadow Centre,” Marion asked, bringing herself back from over the sea. “Did I, Judith?” “No, you said you believed you would take me,” said Judith, mischievously. “I believe it still.” “Would you like to go?” inquired Marion. “I would not like to interfere with any of Roger’s beliefs.” “Then be ready in ten minutes, or you will. I fed Daisy and she has had to eat in a hurry like her master.” “But, Marion, I shall leave you with the dishes, and supper—” “She couldn’t be left in better company,” Roger insisted; “don’t stop to change your dress; put on your big hat and we’ll be off.” “Marion, do you want to be left alone?” “More than anything else in the world,” said Marion, sincerely. XX. JUDITH’S AFTERNOON. “Green pastures are before me, Which yet I have not seen.” “I suppose King will ask me to exchange with him Sunday,” remarked Roger, putting the reins into Judith’s ready hands, after turning out of the parsonage lane. “Which sermon shall I take?” “The cubit one,” was her unhesitating reply; “it has been in my mind to ask you to preach that again for me.” “But you will not hear it.” “Unless you take me with you,” she suggested with a merry laugh.