The comfort and luxury of her new home were beginning to make a visible alteration in her. Already she looked and felt quite a different person from the little Ruth Arnold who sometimes milked the cows, or helped with the house-work when the servants were busy. Her brown curls had long since given place to a long plait like Julia's, her clothes were of richer materials and made in a more fashionable style, and she had what seemed at first an abundant supply of pocket-money. The only day on which she really longed to be back at Cressleigh was Sunday. It had always been such a happy day at the farm, the only rest day of the busy father and mother, and always spent with the children. There were of course certain duties which could not be neglected, but these were quickly done, and then the whole family went together to the house of God. In the afternoon the children all went to Sunday-school, where Will was promoted to the post of teacher, and Mr. and Mrs. Arnold had a quiet hour together with no one but the baby to disturb them. There was rarely any service in the evening, but it was a pleasant time for the children, who in fine summer weather sat on the lawn and sang their favourite hymns, or on winter evenings gathered round the old piano in the well-worn parlour while their mother or Ruth played, or listened while their father talked or read some good and interesting book. All went to bed early, and rose in the morning refreshed and strengthened by the joy and repose of the day of rest. But Sunday at Busyborough was quite a different matter. Every one was expected to attend public worship once during the day, but Gerald was often missing, and the others did not appear to take much pleasure in going. Mr. Woburn had a pew in a handsome church close by, and also at a large Nonconformist chapel in the neighbourhood. His wife usually attended the latter, but Julia preferred the church, where the service was very elaborate. She hated long sermons, she said, and liked to have something to look at. Ruth accompanied her once or twice, but found the morning service, to which she had been accustomed all her life, so differently rendered that at first she could hardly follow it. The dear old Psalms, which had always been read at Cressleigh by the clergyman and the people led by the parish clerk, sounded so strange and unfamiliar when chanted by a surpliced choir. The intoning, the processions, and everything else, were so strange, that Ruth was afraid to join in the service. After going a few times she decided to accompany her aunt, for although the service of the chapel was unfamiliar she was able to enter into the spirit of it, and could appreciate and enjoy the sermon delivered by a clever and eloquent preacher.