Monica and Olive, it must be confessed, did not appreciate that one day in the week as much as they should, inasmuch as they were compelled, of necessity, to forego during its sacred hours all the secular amusements with which they filled up every moment of the week, from Monday morning until Saturday evening. They awoke that brilliant August morning to the unwelcome remembrance that it was "Sunday again already!" But Elsa, whose happiest hours were spent in God’s house, with a tender little smile hovering round her lips, drew up the blinds, and looked out upon the calm blue sea, and lifted her heart in thanksgiving to her Heavenly Father for making such a beautiful world. Even Olive’s ceaseless chatter, as they dressed, did not disturb her; and when her sister had gone into Monica’s room, as she invariably did, Elsa gently shut the door, and taking her little Bible, she knelt by the open window and prayed long and earnestly. She did not know how to pray properly, she only knew how to talk to her dearest Friend, and she was accustomed to tell Him everything, and ask with the simplicity and directness of a little child for what she needed. That morning, after praying for help and strength for herself, to enable her to be a faithful follower of her Master, she remembered her darling mother (whom it had been a very real sorrow to leave) and all those at home; and then her heart seemed overwhelmed with the thought of those about her, who, as yet, did not know and serve her Saviour. "Oh! Lord," she prayed, "do speak to-day, _somehow_, to Monica and Olive. I can’t bear to think of them going on living without Thee. And kind Mrs. Beauchamp wants something to satisfy her. O Lord, she wants _Thee_! and Roger needs Thee, too. Lord, show Thyself to them all to-day, and show them they will never be happy until they have come to Thee." Thus, in all earnestness, but with childish simplicity, Elsa poured out her heart unto the Lord, and "the Lord hearkened and heard." The dear old-fashioned church, taxed to its utmost to provide accommodation for the throngs of fashionably attired people who poured ceaselessly up the aisles, as the five-minute bell gave warning that service would soon commence, was eventually crammed with a huge congregation, made up of many types. Perhaps it would be safe to say that the majority of the people assembled within the sacred edifice had gone there because "it was the proper thing to do"; they neither expected nor desired any spiritual help. Among this class were several of our acquaintances. In one pew, a prominent one, because the verger had an eye to a substantial sum for the offertory from such an imposing looking personage as Mrs. Beauchamp, in her trailing gown of black satin, and a Parisian bonnet, were seated the two Franklyn girls, Monica and her grandmother; Elsa being next to the old lady.