"Oh, Roger," said I, "I am afraid it cannot be right; but I am so glad Sunday is over." "So am I--rather," he said. "Has it seemed long to you? I thought I heard your voice in the tennis-court all the afternoon." "You did not hear mine," he said. "You did not think it right?" I asked, "I wondered how they could." "I am not sure about its being right or wrong for other people," said Roger. "But I was sure it was wrong for me. My Father would not have liked it, and, therefore, I could not think of doing it; especially when he was away." "Were they angry?" I asked. "Not exactly," he said. "They only laughed." "_Only_ laughed!" said I. "I think that is worse to bear than anything." "So do I," he said. "But you did not hesitate?" "Not after they laughed, certainly," said he. "That set my blood up, naturally; for it was not so much at me as at my Father and all of us. They said I was too much of a man for such a crew." "They laughed at Father!" said I, in horror. "Not by name," said he, "but at all he thinks right--at the Puritans, or Precisians, as they call us." "What did you do, Roger?" I said. "Walked away into the wood," he replied. "Why did you not come to us?" I asked. "Because they told me to go to you," he said, flushing. "That was a pity; we were singing sweet hymns." "I heard you," he said. "But I do not think it was a pity I did not come." "What did you find in the wood, then?" said I. "I do not know that I found anything," he said. "What did you do then, Roger?" "I went to the Lady Well, and lay down among the long grass by the stream which flows from it towards the Mere, and separates my Father's land from Sir Walter's, at the place where you can see Davenant Hall on one side and Netherby among its woods on the other. And I thought." "What did you think of?" said I. "I thought I had rather live as a hired servant at my Father's than as master here," said he. "Was that all?" said I. "I thought of our talk in the apple-tree about our being puppets, or free." I was silent. "And Olive," he continued, "I seemed like some one waking up, and it flashed on me that God has no puppets. The devil has puppets. But God has free, living creatures, freely serving him. And I thought how glorious it would be to be a free servant and a son of his. And then I thought of the words, 'Thou hast redeemed us to God by thy blood;' not from God, Olive, but to God, to be his free servants for ever." "That was a great deal to think, Roger," said I. "I think you did find something in the wood." "I found I _wanted_ something, Olive," he said very gravely; "and I thought of something Mr. Cromwell once said when people were talking about sects and parties,--'To be a seeker is to be of the best sect next to being a finder.' He meant to be seeking happiness, or wealth, or peace, or anything in the world, Olive, but to be seeking God."