The girl looked far across the stretches of the park, now growing purple and shadowy in the autumn dusk. Her gray, star-like eyes were big and wistful. She did not see the winding walks, nor the row of russet elms with the twinkling lights beneath. She saw instead an old-fashioned kitchen with a sweet-faced woman sitting by the window, the golden glow of a winter sunset gilding her white hair. There was an open Bible on her knee, and the girl felt again the power of the words she spoke concerning the things that are eternal. She breathed a deep sigh of regret for the brightness of that day so long ago, and wondered if her companion's accusation was true. "I didn't mean to be frivolous," she said, turning towards the lady in the chair. "I do want to be some use in the world. But all the girls who are getting up this new charitable society are--well, for instance, Miss Kendall belongs." "And why shouldn't she? There's nothing incompatible in her being a fine bridge-player and doing church-work. You must get rid of those old-fashioned ideas. Take myself, for instance. You know I never neglect my social duties, and nothing but the severest headache ever keeps me from church." The wistful look in the girl's eyes was being replaced by a twinkle. "But you know a Sunday headache is always prostrating," she said daringly. The lady in the deep chair looked up with an angry flash of her dark eyes; but the girl had stepped out into the light of the fire, revealing the mischievous gleam in her dancing eyes. She knew her power; it was a look the elder woman could rarely resist. For with all their vast differences in temperament there had grown up a warm attachment between these two, since that day, now several years past, when they had run away together from an afternoon tea. The lady's frown faded; but she spoke gravely. "Beth, don't be so nonsensical. You know it is your duty to me--to yourself, to join the Guild. We have not established ourselves socially yet. Toronto is ruined by pandering to wealth. I've seen the day when the name of Jarvis was sufficient to open any door, but times have changed, and we must make the best of it. But you are culpably careless regarding your best interests. Now, I particularly want you to cultivate Blanche Kendall; the Kendalls are the foremost people in St. Stephen's Church, and if you join this society it will make your position assured. Only the best people are admitted. Mrs. Kendall assured me of that herself. Now, don't trifle with your chance in life." "A chance in life? That's what I've been looking for ever since we came to Toronto," said the girl, gazing discontentedly into the fire. "But I don't think it's to be found in St. Stephen's Church. I hate being of no use in the world." The elder woman looked amused in her turn, now that she felt she was gaining her point. "You talk like a child. Will you never grow up, I wonder?"