It was Sabbath evening in her thoughts, and she was in the Christian Endeavor meeting, listening to Agatha’s voice while she quoted from some grand old writer a thought like this: “We plan our Easter offerings, and beautify His temple for the glad day, and that is well; but we are to remember that as there would have been no Easter had He not given Himself, so the highest and best offering we can bring to Him is our unselfish consecrated selves.” Celia remembered the thrill with which she had listened. Agatha’s voice was like music, and the thoughts had seemed to fit her voice and make a poem of them, which had thrilled the beauty-loving heart of her young sister. That was a week ago. Why should the words come back to her this afternoon, and ring in her heart like soft bells, calling her? What had they to do with Hester, and the door-bells to answer, and the table to set for company, and a sick baby at home? “The highest and best offering we can bring to Him is our unselfish consecrated selves,” rang the bells in her heart, and her lips spoke: “Mother, may I take Hester’s place this afternoon, and let her go home? I can set the table; cook said I did it beautifully the last time.” “You!” said her mother, in surprise, and both the sisters exclaimed. “Why, I thought, dear, your class was to meet at Marion’s to help arrange the flowers for the Easter service?” “And I thought you were all invited to stay to tea at Marion’s?” added Agatha. “So we are,” said Celia, answering them both in one; “but the girls can get along well enough without me. There are eight of them, and Marion’s Aunt Laura is going to show them how to arrange everything; and as for staying to tea, why, I can do that another time; and the baby is sick, and Hester is worried about him, I know. I should like to stay, mother, truly, if you will let me.” “Let you, child! I shall be thankful for your help. To tell the truth, it seemed really selfish to keep Hester this afternoon, only I did not know how to plan; I was sure cook could not get along without help, though she was willing to try, because she felt sorry for Hester.” “May I tell Hester about it, mother?” Celia asked, her eyes shining; “and she can carry my flowers and leave them at Marion’s.” The flowers and their owner went away together, followed by Mrs. Foster. As for the young ladies, Agatha took pretty pink silk stitches on the lovely white satin and said not a word, while Lorene, turning to the piano, played a few bars, and sang softly: “Low in the grave he lay, Jesus my Saviour,” breaking off to say: “Celia is a strange little girl, isn’t she?” “Very strange,” answered Agatha, and she finished a pink bud as she spoke. She was making an Easter offering.