"I had a good mother, and heard about good things from her till I was sixteen, yet somehow they have never taken a vital hold of my heart. I was thinking just now, as I looked over to those beautiful hills, how remote and serene they are, so near heaven that earth's little worries cannot touch them. I believe some people's lives are like that. My own mother's life was, but I could never attain to it." "I don't believe in straining and climbing overmuch," said Anstice's new friend. "Thank God that He reaches down just where we are and as we are. A child has only to raise its arms to its mother. She does the lifting." Anstice drew in a quick breath, and looked at him with glowing eyes. "I dare say it is because I have always felt so capable, that I have never wanted to be raised," she said. "Now to-day I am feeling my own helplessness." "It's a good attitude in our soul's affairs." Silence fell between them. Then he began to talk about village interests. He told her his wife was an invalid, and that he was in need of an organist, for the last rector's wife had always played for the services. "Are you musical?" he asked her. "I wonder if you could help me?" "I can play. I always used to in our little village church at home, but I cannot promise to undertake outside work just yet. I must feel my way. May I let you know later on what I can do?" After a little more talk, they walked back to the house together. "May I see the children?" he asked, as walking along the terrace they heard their voices through the open library window. Anstice took him into the room at once. Here they found the little girls on the carpet sorting over a bag of feathers, Ruffie looking on with the keenest interest. They looked up surprised at the grown-ups' intrusion, but the Rector quickly put them at ease. "I'm not going to stay, I only want to shake hands, and say that I hope we're going to be friends." Hands were shaken in grave silence. "Now, did I see any of you at church?" Josie shook her head vigorously. "We don't hardly ever go. It's so dull. And Mr. Penfold looked so cross and old." "I'd like to go one day," announced Ruffie. "I'd like to hear the music." "You shall," promised Anstice. Then the Rector took his leave. But he placed his hand on Ruffie's head before he went, and said softly, "May the Good Shepherd gather His lamb with His Arm and carry him in His Bosom." And Ruffie stared at him with open eyes and mouth, as if he were an unknown wonder. CHAPTER IV LEFT TO HERSELF WHEN Justin reached home that evening, he found dinner in the dining-room. A bowl of pink tulips adorned the table. Anstice in a black lace gown with some early white roses at her breast sat opposite to him, and talked in her soft, happy voice of all that she had done and seen during the day.