Ellen had removed the plates and was handing round the pudding. Elizabeth begged Mr. Townshend not to hurry, and to heed in no way the scrambling table manners of his host and hostess. She turned a deaf ear to his suggestion that he would like to hear her instruct her class, assuring him that he would be much better employed reading a book by the fire. Buff, she added, would be pleased to keep him company after he had learned his Sabbath evening task, eight lines of a psalm. "Aw," said Buff. "Must I, Father?" "Eight lines are easily learned, my son." "Well, can I choose my own psalm?" His father said "Certainly"; but Elizabeth warned him: "Then make him promise to learn a new one, or he'll just come with 'That man hath perfect blessedness.'" "I won't," said Buff. "I know a nice one to learn: quite new, about a worm." "Dear me," said his father, "I wonder what psalm that is? Well, Lizbeth, we must go. You'll find books in the drawing-room, Mr. Townshend; and see that the fire is good." Elizabeth's class consisted of seven little bullet-headed boys. To-night there was an extra one, whom she welcomed warmly--Bob Scott, the small boy whom she had befriended while collecting in the rain. She found, however, that his presence was not conducive to good conduct in the class. Instead of lapping up the information served out to him without comment as the other boys did, he made remarks and asked searching questions. Incidents in the Bible lesson recalled to him events, generally quite irrelevant, which he insisted on relating. For instance, the calling forth of evil spirits from the possessed reminded him of the case of a friend of his, one Simpson, a baker, who one morning had gone mad and danced on the bakehouse roof, singing, "Ma sweetheart hes blue eyes," until he fell through a skylight, with disastrous results. Bob's manners, too, lacked polish. He attracted Elizabeth's attention by saying "Hey, wumman!" he contradicted her flatly several times; but in spite of it all, she liked his impudent, pinched little face, and at the end of the hour kept him behind the other boys to ask how things were going with him. He had no mother, it seemed, and no brothers or sisters: he went to school (except when he "plunk't"), ran messages for shops, and kept house--such keeping as it got. His father, he said, was an extra fine man, except when he was drunk. Before they parted it was arranged that Bob should visit the Seton's on Saturday and get his dinner; he said it would not be much out of his way, as he generally spent his Saturday mornings having a shot at "fitba'" in the park near. He betrayed no gratitude for the invitation, merely saying "S'long, then," as he walked away. On Sabbath evenings the Setons had prayers at eight o'clock, and Buff stayed up for the event. Marget and Ellen were also present, and Elizabeth played the hymns and led the singing. "First," said Mr. Seton, "we'll have Buff's psalm."