They were merry now; but Jane had seen them when they were not, and then she feared him as she had feared her father.
The women flocked around her in welcome.
"Daughter of Withersteen," said the Bishop, gaily, as he took her hand, "you have not been prodigal of your gracious self of late.

A Sabbath without you at service! I shall reprove Elder Tull." "Bishop, the guilt is mine.

I'll come to you and confess," Jane replied, lightly; but she felt the undercurrent of her words.
"Mormon love-making!" exclaimed the Bishop, rubbing his hands.

"Tull keeps you all to himself." "No.

He is not courting me." "What?
The laggard! If he does not make haste I'll go a-courting myself up to Withersteen House." There was laughter and further bantering by the Bishop, and then mild talk of village affairs, after which he took his leave, and Jane was left with her friend, Mary Brandt.
"Jane, you're not yourself.