"Well, I hope, mistress, we shan't get a worse in his place!" answered Richard. "Folk do say the new gentleman has many new-fangled ways." We had an early dinner, after which Mrs. Chloe betook herself to her own room, and Mrs. Deborah called upon us to read to her in a great folio volume of sermons by Bishop Kerr and some others of his school. Some of these discourses were on practical religion, and these were admirable for the most part, but a great many were political,—all about the divine right of kings, the duty of passive obedience to the sovereign, let him be ever so bad, and other kindred topics. Oh, what a weariness they were to the flesh and spirit—enough to make an out and out whig of any lively young person from sheer contradiction. I am afraid I was not one bit sorry for the Theban Legion, and only regretted their massacre, because I had to hear so much about it. After two hours of this exercise, we were dismissed, and refreshed ourselves by a long walk in the high park as it was called, that which stretched up the hill behind the house. We had supper earlier than usual, and then the card table was set out, and we were invited to take a hand at whist with Mrs. Chloe and Mrs. Deborah. We excused ourselves on the ground that we knew nothing of whist. "But you can learn!" said Mrs. Deborah. "It will be a pleasure to have some one to go partners with." We looked at each other and hesitated what to say. We had talked over this matter of Sunday card playing with Mr. Cheriton and with each other, and had decided that it was not a right way of spending Sunday evening, though it was a very common one at that day. Even clergymen thought it no harm to take a hand at piquet. "Well, what is the matter?" said Mrs. Deborah, impatiently. "Why do you not sit down?" "Will you please excuse me, aunt!" said Amabel, "I will learn on some other evening, if you will be so good as to teach me, but not on Sunday." "Heyday! What does this mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Deborah, the thunder-cloud on her brow looming blacker than usual. "What sort of a Puritan have I brought home with me? Pray miss, do you set yourself up for a saint?" "Sister Deborah!" said Mrs. Chloe, warningly. "I don't know what a Puritan is, and I am sure I am not a saint?" said Amabel, gently. "I wish I were. But you know, aunt, if I think a thing wrong, I cannot do it, even to please you." "And what right have you to think a thing wrong when it is done by your elders and betters, miss?" "Sister Deborah!" "I have seen my elders and betters on their knees for hours at a time before a piece of bread which they worshiped as God!" said Amabel with some spirit. "But you would not like to see me do that, aunt. Indeed you must please excuse us."