Miss Prudence | Page 8

Master's business and he kept
about mine. Therefore, when she wrote to say that suddenly and
unexpectedly her father had withdrawn all opposition, I was not in the
least surprised. My sister declared I was plucky to hold on, but the Lord
held on for me; I felt as if I had nothing to do with it. And a better wife
and mother God never blessed one of his servants with. She could do
something beside read the Bible in Hebrew; she could practice it in
English. For forty years [missing text] my companion and counsellor
and dearest friend. So you see"--he added in his bright, convincing
voice, "we may know the will of the Lord about such things and
everything else."
"I believe it," responded Marjorie's mother, emphatically.
"Now tell me about all the young people in your village. How many
have you that are unconverted?"
Was Hollis one of them? Marjorie wondered with a beating heart.
Would Evangelist talk to him? Would he kiss him, and give him a
smile, and bid him God speed?

But--she began to doubt--perhaps there was another Evangelist and this
was not the very one in Pilgrim's Progress; somehow, he did not seem
just like that one. Might she dare ask him? How would she say it?
Before she was aware her thought had become a spoken thought; in the
interval of quiet while her mother was counting the young people in the
village she was very much astonished to hear her own timid, bold, little
voice inquire:
"Is there more than one Evangelist?"
"Why, yes, child," her mother answered absently and Evangelist began
to tell her about some of the evangelists he was acquainted with.
"Wonderful men! Wonderful men!" he repeated.
Before another question could form itself on her eager lips her father
entered and gave the stranger a cordial welcome.
"We have to thank scarlet fever at the Parsonage for the pleasure of
your visit with us, I believe," he said.
"Yes, that seems to be the bright side of the trouble."
"Well, I hope you have brought a blessing with you."
"I hope I have! I prayed the Lord not to bring me here unless he came
with me."
"I think the hush of the Spirit's presence has been in our church all
winter," said Mrs. West. "I've had no rest day or night pleading for our
young people."
The words filled Marjorie with a great awe; she slipped out to unburden
herself to Linnet, but Linnet was setting the tea-table in a frolicsome
mood and Marjorie's heart could not vent itself upon a frolicsome
listener.
From the china closet in the hall Linnet had brought out the china, one
of her mother's wedding presents and therefore seldom used, and the

glass water pitcher and the small glass fruit saucers.
"Can't I help?" suggested Marjorie looking on with great interest.
"No," refused Linnet, decidedly, "you might break something as you
did the night Mrs. Rheid and Hollis were here."
"My fingers were too cold, then."
"Perhaps they are too warm, now," laughed Linnet.
"Then I can tell you about the primary colors; I suppose I won't break
them," returned Marjorie with her usual sweet-humor.
Linnet moved the spoon holder nearer the sugar bowl with the air of a
house wife, Marjorie stood at the table leaning both elbows upon it.
"If you remember vibgyor, you'll remember the seven primary colors!"
she said mysteriously.
"Is it like cutting your nails on Saturday without thinking of a fox's tail
and so never have the toothache?" questioned Linnet.
"No; this is earnest. It isn't a joke; it's a lesson," returned Marjorie,
severely. "Mr. Holmes said a professor told it to him when he was in
college."
"You see it's a joke! I remember vibgyor, but now I don't know the
seven primary colors. You are always getting taken in, Goosie! I hope
you didn't ask Mr. Woodfern if he is the man in Pilgrim's Progress."
"I know he isn't," said Marjorie, seriously, "there are a good many of
them, he said so. I guess Pilgrim's Progress happened a long time ago.
I shan't look for Great-heart, any more," she added, with a sigh.
Linnet laughed and scrutinized the white handled knives to see if there
were any blemishes on the blades; her mother kept them laid away in
old flannel.

"Now, Linnet, you see it isn't a joke," began Marjorie, protestingly;
"the word is made of all the first letters of the seven colors,--just see!"
counting on her fingers, "violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red!
Did you see how it comes right?"
"I didn't see, but I will as soon as I get time. You were not taken in that
time, I do believe. Did Mr. Woodfern ask you questions?"
"Not that kind! And I'm