Then she thought she would return to her little cold room again, before anybody found her in the parlour. She was thoroughly warmed up, she had no more thinking to do just then; and if need be she would lay herself on the bed and cover herself with blankets, and so wait till luncheon time. As she went up stairs, something happened that she did not expect; there stole into her heart as it were a rill of gladness, which swelled and grew. "Yes, Jesus _is_ my King, she thought, and I am his child. O I don't care now for anything, for Jesus is my King, and He will help and take care." She went singing that Name in her heart all the way up stairs; for the first time in her life the sweetness of it was sweet to her; for the first time, the strength of it was something to lean upon. Ay, she was right; she had stepped over the narrow boundary line between the realm of the Prince of this world and the kingdom of Christ. She had submitted herself to the one Ruler; she was no longer under the dominion of the other. And with her first entrance into the kingdom of the Prince of peace, she had stepped out of the darkness into the light, and the air of that new country blew softly upon her. O wonderful! O sweet! O strange!--that such a change should be so quickly made, and yet so hard to make. Rotha had not fought all her battles nor got rid of all her enemies, but that the latter should have no more _dominion_ over her she felt confident. She was a different creature from the Rotha who had fled down stairs an hour or two before in wrath and bitterness. It was very cold up stairs. She lay down and covered herself with blankets and went to sleep. She was called to luncheon; got up and smoothed her hair as well as she could with her hands, and thought over what she had to do. She had to set her teeth and go at it like a forlorn-hope upon a battery, but she did not flinch at all. Mr. Busby was at luncheon, which was unusual and she had not counted upon. He was gracious. "How do you do, Rotha? Bless me, how you have improved! grown too, I declare." "There was no need of that, papa," said Antoinette, who was going to be a dumpy. "What has Mrs. Mowbray done to you? I really hardly know you again." "Fine feathers, papa." "Mrs. Mowbray has been very kind to me," Rotha managed to get in quietly. "She's growing handsome, wife!" Mr. Busby declared as he took his seat at the table. "You shouldn't say such things to young girls, Mr. Busby," said his wife reprovingly. "Shouldn't I? Why not? It is expected that they will hear enough of that sort of thing when they get a little older." "Why should they, Mr. Busby?" asked Rotha, innocently curious. "Yes indeed, why should they?" echoed her aunt. "Why should they? I don't know. As I said, it is expected. Young ladies usually demand such tribute from their admirers." "To tell them they are handsome?" said Rotha.