"No, thank you; I cannot come," said Reuben. Then, with an effort, he added, "I am going to church." The statement was received with a burst of laughter, as if it were a grand joke, by all the party except Owen. He looked annoyed and uncomfortable. "Going to church! Oh, my word! P'raps you'd like to go to church with him, Grant." "Don't be a fool, Reu," said Owen, drawing his friend aside; "these fellows will only laugh at you if you talk about church. You can go there any Sunday. But we are not likely to get another day like this in a hurry. Do come." It was only for a moment that Reuben hesitated. He did not like to be laughed at, nor called a fool; but it suddenly struck him that he would be a fool indeed if he suffered himself to be drawn aside from doing what he felt to be right by fear of the contempt of such fellows as these. "Let them laugh," he said; "what do I care? Owen, you know I have always been accustomed to go to church on Sunday, and so have you. Why should we do differently now? What would your father and mother feel if they knew how you were thinking of spending Sunday? Oh, Owen, don't do it, for their sakes. Come with me. I am sure those fellows are not good friends for you." Owen coloured and was silent. Reuben words were not without their effect upon him. But a shout from one of the other lads counteracted it. "Hullo, there, Grant! It is time we were off. Don't let that saintly chap carry you off to church." The feelings contending within Owen Grant gave place to a burst of anger. "Be so good as to mind your own business, Reuben Roy. It does not matter to you how I choose to spend Sunday. I am not a child now, tied to my mother's apron strings. I am a man, and can please myself. It was all very well to go to church and Sunday-school when I was at Ashworth, but Ashworth ways won't do in Birmingham." "So much the worse for Birmingham," said Reuben, keeping his temper, "for I think the Ashworth ways are best, Owen." With that he walked away, whilst the others clambered up on the drag. Their ringing laughter followed him, and he caught the words "duffer," "milk-sop," "sneak," and knew that these choice epithets were being applied to himself. But Reuben did not much mind. Their words could not hurt him. He would have been truly hurt had he sinned against his conscience by doing that which he felt to be wrong. But he was sorry about Owen. He called to mind the aged father and mother, who thought so much of their only child. The high value they set on him, and the exalted notion their fond affection had formed of his merits, had become quite a joke—a perfectly good-humoured one, however—amongst the villagers of Ashworth. Reuben sighed now at the recollection. How grieved the poor old people would be if they knew! [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. AN ENEMY.