As she stepped into the little room, the door of which had been opened by Polly, she laughed again. It was so very small! Luke had given her no idea at all of its dimensions. He had merely said he could trust his mother to see after the house and to make them comfortable. His joyous laugh as he followed her into the room mingled with hers. "I'm glad my mother has secured Polly for our maid," he said. "She is a first-rate little woman and always answers the Scripture Questions better at school than any other girl. She'll do well for us." Rachel did not quite see how answering Scripture questions at school made her fit to be a little maid of all work! But it was all so surprising that she looked around merrily. "It's almost like a fairy tale," she said, and the thought flashed across her mind, "like a doll's house." Then it was that as Luke suddenly glanced at his wife a feeling of apprehension seized him. Rachel was standing looking at the pictures on the walls, and her radiant beauty and lovely clothes struck a cold chill into his heart. She looked out of place! And he felt his home must appear to be dull and uninteresting. "I am afraid," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, and his tone of voice was tinged with regret, "I am afraid that it must strike you as very different from what you have been used to. The house is so small." "I like it small," she answered cheerfully, "for even when you write your sermons you will not be able to get away from me. I like it to be different." She had seen at a glance that the wall paper was ugly, the furniture badly arranged, and was not surprised to hear that both had been his mother's choice. It was exactly the kind of paper and furniture that she would expect her to choose. All good, but nothing dainty. But what did it signify? She could have the room papered by-and-bye, and get rid of some of the furniture, and would soon be able to make it homelike and pretty. And after all it did not matter having to live with hideous furniture and drab wall paper if by so doing she had Luke to herself, and was able to help him in his work. Somewhat assured by her answer and bright smile, Luke led her into the drawing-room, a still smaller and duller room at the back of the house, looking on what, by courtesy, we will call a garden, but was nothing more than a yard containing a few sad looking bushes and a sickly flower or two. Polly appeared asking with a broad grin when she might "serve tea." "What have you got for tea?" enquired Luke, thinking of Rachel. "Mrs. Greville brought round some eggs, Sir," answered Polly. "Good, we'll have them. And I suppose there is jam?" "There's a pot of plum jam, Sir." "Bring that then and be as quick as you can Polly as I have to go out in half an hour." "Go out!" exclaimed Rachel.