"You led a more active life than Ruffie. He has time and opportunity to think out things. But I don't think it's unnatural for children to be religious. They take to it like ducklings take to water. It is their natural atmosphere. 'Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.'" "I don't want him to soar above me," persisted Justin. "He has always thought the world of his Dad. I am afraid of him learning to criticize my ideals, to find them empty and rotten, and then have a profound pity and contempt for me." "Oh, Justin, nice children are never critics. Ruffie will never be a prig. I remember, as a child, I always thought every grown-up person was naturally good, with the exception perhaps of thieves, drunkards and murderers. Don't you think it would be possible to raise your ideals above Ruffie's head and keep them there?" Justin looked at her with a smile. They were sitting together on the terrace, as they generally did after dinner, he smoking, she with a bit of work between her busy fingers. "What are my ideals?" he said slowly. "I am changing them, you know, since I have known you. A year or two ago, they were to be free of all worry and responsibility, to laze in the sun in foreign climes, to be beyond the reach of civilization's claims. I think to-day my ideal is to make myself worthy of my wife. I want her to respect me, as well as love me. If I reach her standard, I shall be content." "Oh, Justin!" Anstice's voice was almost pained, then she smiled. "And if we love, it makes all things easy. If we love the One who loves us, we shall try to reach His Standard, and do what He would have us do. We must try together to reach God's Standard." Justin shrugged his shoulders. "I shall never be as religious as you are," he said, "but I wouldn't have you otherwise; for you're just perfect in my eyes!" He would seldom be drawn into religious argument; and yet there was nothing he liked better than being an unseen listener to Anstice's Sunday stories, and talks with the children. She did not worry him with overmuch talk, but she prayed for him earnestly and continuously. One day, she had a letter from Louise telling her of the death of her uncle. She at once went over to her, and stayed with her till after the funeral. For the next few weeks Louise was a good deal at Butterdale. She was going to be married almost at once, and Anstice insisted that she must be married from the Manor. Justin was willing; he took a liking to the girl. Her brightness and naturalness pleased him; and he promised, if she had no nearer friend or relative, to give her away. "I have no one," she said simply; "there are not many with so few relations as I." And then she talked to Anstice about her future prospects. "I am going to live in the farm with George and Minna. She is very ill, I'm afraid, but I shall be able to nurse her." "My dear child, what a sad beginning to your married life!"