It was a long, low house. The leaded, diamond-shaped windows opened like doors on their hinges, and flower boxes, drooping vines and blooms were on every sill. Gardens and lawns, with a little paddock for the ponies to run in, covered the six acres of land surrounding it. Marion was delighted. "Here we shall be so happy, Aunt," she cried in a voice full of sweet inflections, for she was thanking God in her heart for bringing her to such a beautiful spot. Aileen and Kitty met them at the door and tea was waiting in the small dining-room. There was a low bowl of pansies in the center of the table, which was set with cream Wedgwood and silver of the date of Queen Anne. Every necessity and every luxury for the hour were there, and a wonderful peace brooded over all things. Marion was enchanted. "This place must be like Heaven," she said; and Mrs. Caird answered, "I hope you are right. I cannot imagine any circumstances much pleasanter. We may thank God even for this cup of young Pekoe and thick cream, and delicate bread and fresh butter. They are just a part of the whole blessing. I have heard of a great English writer who thought that among many higher pleasures we should not miss the homely delicacies of our earthly table. I hope we shall not. I would like a little of earth in heaven; it might be as good to us as is a little of heaven on earth. Why not? All God's gifts are blessed, if we bless Him for them." "I wonder if Father and Donald will have a good tea?" "I'll warrant you. Maggie knows all your father's ways and likings--queer and otherwise. He would want a bit of broiled fish, or the like of it. I don't think you or I would care for hot meat now." "What could be nicer than this cold, tender chicken?" "Nothing, but men are keen for something hot. They don't feel as if they were fed, wanting the taste and smell of fresh-cooked flesh--of one kind or another." "Donald promised me he would keep straight with Father, if possible." "Whiles it is not possible to do that--but he made me the same promise, and he'll keep it, if his father will let him." "Father is not at all quarrelsome, Aunt." "Isn't he, dear? I'm very glad to hear it." "You ought to know, Aunt; you have lived with him for----" "Nearly eighteen years, and I am not settled in my mind yet on that subject." "If people attack Father's creed, it is right for him to be angry. Donald ought to have kept his opinions to himself." "That is the hardest kind of work, Marion. I know, for I've been trying to do it ever since you were born. Yes, Marion, I have, and it is hard work to-day." "What makes you try it, Aunt?" "The same reason as stirs Donald up." "Calvinism?" "Just Calvinism." "But you are a Calvinist?" "Not I! No, indeed! But when I came here to take care of Donald and yourself I promised Jessy Caird never to bring that subject to dispute. I knew, if I did, I would have to leave you, and I thought more of you two children than of any creed in Christendom."