She looked over her shoulder to say it, and they could see how entirely the freshness had gone from eyes and complexion. Her very hair looked bleached and dry. “The weather will excuse every mishap and misdemeanor until the dog days are over. Hetty stayed at home to watch over her. It is a source of regret to Mr. Wayt and myself”—comprehensively to the four Gilchrists—“that my sister is so often debarred the privileges of the sanctuary in consequence of Hester’s dependence upon her.” “I have remarked that she is frequently absent from church,” Mrs. Gilchrist answered. Her dry tone annoyed her son. Yet how could she, bred in luxury and living in affluence, enter into the exigencies of a position which combined the offices of nurse, companion, housewife, seamstress, mother, and bread-winner? Mrs. Wayt took alarm. “Poor child! she hardly calls herself a church-goer at all. But it is not her fault. She thinks, and with reason, that it is more important for me to attend service regularly—for the sake of the example, you understand—and we cannot leave our dear, helpless child with the children or servants. She gets no Sabbath except as my sister gives it to her. I am anxious that the true state of the case should be understood by the church people. Hetty would grieve to think that her enforced absences are a stumbling block.” Her solicitude was genuine and obvious. Judge Gilchrist offered an assuasive: “We must have a telephone wire run from the pulpit to Miss Hester’s room. I have known of such things.” “I don’t believe that Hester would care to keep her room Sunday mornings then!” whispered Perry, _l’enfant terrible_ of the Wayt family. “She says family prayers are all she can stand.” March, the recipient of the saucy “aside,” cast a warning look at the telltale. Inwardly he was amused by the unlucky revelation. Spoiled child as Hester was, she had marvelously keen perceptions and shrewd judgment. She saw through the jugglery that deceived the mass of Mr. Wayt’s followers, and rated correctly the worth of his capital. He juggled rarely to-day. Even his voice partook of the spread-eagle element which interfused Divine services as conducted by the popular preacher. The church was full to the doors, many of the audience being strangers and sightseers. The number of “transients” increased weekly. “He is like fly-paper,” Hester had said, this very Sunday, as the skirts of his well-fitting coat, clerically cut and closely buttoned, cleared the front door. “Out of the many that swarm and buzz about him, some are sure to stick—that is, take pews! That is the test of spiritual husbandry, Hetty! I believe I’ll be an infidel!” “Don’t be utterly absurd!” answered her aunt in a spiritless way. “I haven’t the energy to argue, or even scold. ‘Let God be true, and every man a liar.’ God forgive me, but I am ready, sometimes, to say that all men _are_! But I can’t let Him go, dear!”