So the reading continued. And the mental arguments continued, also, for to the reader's wide-open eyes the sentiments expressed did not grow less objectionable. It was not that they were pronounced in their form; there was neither downright mockery of things sacred nor downright ridicule of things pure. It was simply like many a book which is being read in parlors; full of delicately-served, sugar-coated poisons. And it was commended, too, in a general way, by some of the very newspapers that might have been expected to stand guard over its intrusion into Christian homes. It was charmingly written. The pale hero was so fascinating in his manner that, when he languidly quoted a moral lie and gracefully propped it with arguments, you, being eighteen and guileless, could not help admiring him a little. Yet did Elsie read under protest. "Mamma" appeared before her frequently, with keen eyes and clear brain, and swept away a filmy web which would hide a falsehood from less cultured minds. "Papa's" strong logic came often to mind to overthrow some subtle reasoning. Dr. Falconer's very last sermon loomed up before her once, text and all, to refute utterly a hint which the pale hero put forth. If Freeman Vance had not appeared on the scene the book would certainly have been laid aside; but how utterly foolish would her position appear to him! He would call her a prude, as she had heard him call a young lady who had been the subject of conversation the other day. She knew just how his lip curled when he said it. Not that she cared for Freeman Vance's opinion, she told herself; but, then, nobody liked to be talked about. As she reached this conclusion she turned another leaf. The interesting hero was in the midst of a statement given with as much energy as he ever used, and, by way of emphasizing his point, he used an unmitigated oath. "Can you deliberately hold in your hand books of a kind which you know perfectly well lead you farther from instead of nearer to Him?" The quotation came to the reader suddenly, with almost as much force as though it had been spoken by an audible voice. She made an instant's pause—the oath unread—and looked down at her fair hands. They were being soiled! There was no question in her heart about it. With a sudden, impulsive movement, she spread open her hands with a repellent gesture, as though she recoiled from the thing touched, and the book fell to the floor. Freeman Vance sprang to return it and Carrie gave a nervous start. "Why, Elsie Burton, what is the matter? You made me drop six stitches off my hook." "Is there a ghost on that page?" queried Ben, mischief in his voice.