Then throwing open the door into a large bed-room, she said: "One of the classes can come in here, you see." The young lady was delighted, and accepted the offer as cordially as it had been made. "Who is your next neighbor?" she asked, preparing to leave. "She's a hard one, Miss," answered the old lady, smiling, "but the more's the need of her being taught." Encouraged, however, by her former success, Helen drove to the house nothing doubting. Her low knock brought a woman to the door whose appearance of hardness and defiance caused the visitor's heart to beat most painfully. No human face could be more repulsive. The lines of discontent, sourness and gloom had deepened until they had become absolute deformities, and there she stood in the partly open door surveying the stranger in the most insolent manner. "I am getting up a Sabbath School," began Helen, trying to smile, "and I called to invite your children." "You may go away again, then, for no one belonging to me shall go inside the door of a church or Sunday School." "We are going to meet for the present at the next house," Helen went on. "I'm sorry you wont let your children go," and she sighed audibly. "I love children, and I want to do them good." She was turning away, but Mrs. Lane had by no means done with her. "I know all about Sunday Schools," she burst out in an angry tone. "My oldest gal went once to the church three miles sway, and 'cause she wasn't dressed out in furbelows and flounces like the others, the children wouldn't speak to her. Sunday Schools are places to larn pride and loftiness, and hatred of poor folks; that's just what they are, and I want nothing to do with 'em." Helen turned back and gazed in the woman's face. Her cheeks glowed with anger; and as she stood with outspread arms, she reminded one of a virago. "But," thought the visitor, "she has a soul to be saved, and she has young children under her direct influence. She is a hard case, but there must be some way to touch her heart. I wont give her up, I'll come again. It's no use to argue with her." So she quietly said: "Good morning, Mrs. Lane. I'm very sorry you wont let me have the little ones." "What good would it do you? Tell me that. Why don't you call me a liar and say I ought to larn manners, as the woman did who came to leave tracts? Have I frightened you?" And she laughed a hard, bitter, defiant laugh that chilled the hearer's blood. "Shall I tell you what I was thinking?" Helen asked, softly. "Yes, tell, if you have a mind. It's a free country, I s'pose." "I was thinking how many trials you must have had to feel so unkindly to every one. And I was wondering whether anything I could do for you or yours could soften your feelings toward your fellow creatures." To her astonishment the woman left her abruptly, and went into an inner room, shutting the door after her. [Illustration] CHAPTER XV. EXPLANATIONS.