"But that's just what I didn't want, Agnes; I wanted with all my heart to go His way, and yet I failed." "Yes," said Agnes slowly; "and He knew that. But perhaps, John----" "Say on." "Perhaps--I don't know, I only guess by myself--perhaps you felt you were strong, and could stand alone." Agnes glanced up with eyes that glittered with tears as they went up the steps beneath the deep portico. John squeezed her arm, and they entered the church. If Agnes had given John a lesson, she had taught herself one too. That Christmas morning was a time never to be forgotten; and to John, who had gone there hoping for a little quiet time to renew his vows, to ask afresh what his Lord would have him to do, there came a very different discipline. Instead of being a soldier buckling on his bright armour, he found himself a beaten-down combatant who was returning home wounded and sore. But a comforting thought came to him as he knelt with his face buried in his hands; all the same for his wounds and feeling of defeat, he was fighting under the great Captain, who loved him in spite of all. And when the text was given out his lesson came home to him, and he raised his head joyfully as his eyes sought those of his sister. "Now unto Him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before His presence with exceeding joy, be glory for ever. Amen." After an instant's pause their minister began. "I am not going to speak to the joyful this Christmas, for they do not need it so much; but I am going to speak to the downcast, that they may look forward to this exceeding joy." Every word might have been meant for John, and he took it all humbly home to his heart. Never had his face looked like that before, and when they came out there were two people happy among the throng at anyrate. Aunt Phyllis took Agnes's arm, while the rest lingered for a moment to shake hands with some friends. "Agnes," said Miss Headley, "what has come to John; he looks different?" Agnes pressed her aunt's arm, and whispered. "Don't say a word, auntie; but _God_ has been speaking to him." Aunt Phyllis gazed at her, then, with a wondrous gladness in her pale face, turned homewards. They all separated at their different doors. "The children," as they were called, promising to come in at the right time. "No fear of our punctuality to-day, auntie," said John, smiling. "I don't know," answered his aunt. "I have known unpunctual people as late on great occasions as on small." "Have you? Then we shall prove ourselves, I hope, to be not unpunctual people." They ran up their own steps and found Hugh taking off his coat in the hall. "Make haste, Hugh," said John; "auntie has been giving us a lecture on not being late." "I don't call it much of a lecture," said Alice. "Aunt Phyllis never lectures." The girls went upstairs "to make themselves smart," as Hugh called it, and the two brothers walked into the dining-room.