“That is quite true, and undoubtedly it is only those among us who are a trifle worldly minded, that show a disposition to hasten these things.” Jane Spencer was always very meek under reproof, and I felt glad that others sustained her desire that Uncle Joseph should be a little less deliberate in his action. “I can hardly think that he realizes Sarah’s worth,” said a late comer. “On the contrary,” it was Rhoda Longstreet’s voice, “I am sometimes inclined to believe that his doubt rests upon his own merit. If he were one of the world’s people I should say he was bashful. As it is, I shall call him slow in perceiving his adaptation to any peculiar calling.” “Thee may be right,” responded Jane Spencer, and I was struck with the note of merrymaking that accompanied her words. “If so, I can only wish that somebody would give him a hint, for I really believe that Sarah has perceived their true relationship, and that her spirit is troubled with doubt since no sign is given unto her.” “Ah,” interrupted Hannah, “shall we never learn that God does not wish us to call upon him for _signs_?” Now it had chanced, although none of those present were at that time conscious of it, that Sarah Sidney had given up her seat in a friend’s carriage to a person who was suffering from a weak limb, and had walked briskly along the frozen road toward our house. Uncle Joseph, too, had chosen to leave his vehicle at home, and seeing in the distance a familiar plump little figure, he made haste to overtake her. For a few moments they talked together of the lesser things of life. Then they fell into silence, which was at last broken by Uncle Joseph’s voice. “My mind has dwelt much to-day upon the Bible teaching of the relation of Ruth and Boaz.” I am sure the throbbing heart beneath the clear muslin kerchief of Sarah Sidney must have bounded a little at this. He went on: “Has thee ever thought it over, and applied the test to our own lives?” It certainly was not strange that the good woman hesitated before she answered: “If thee means to ask whether it has been shown to me that I am chosen of the Lord to be thy companion, I will admit that it has; but, Joseph, thee is not an old man, nor am I a young hand-maiden.” Uncle Joseph stopped short in his walk, and catching a frightened look upon the honest face beside him, he gravely said: “It was not upon _that_ relation my mind ran. I thought rather of the increased duty in this day and generation which must belong to the husbandman and his gleaners; or in other words the responsibility of him upon whom the benefits of this world have been showered, and the loud call that is ever sounding in my ear to extend help to those who need; and it has been whispered to me that thy material goods have been slipping from thee, and--and, I wished to offer my aid.”