But I don't suppose he noticed the words of this hymn,--though I know he sung it,--for he keeps right on in his sin; and he couldn't, you know, Mrs.Ward, if that hymn was true to him." Helen left Alfaretta to reflect upon the hymn, and went back to the study; but the door was shut, and she heard the scratching of her husband's pen.

She turned away, for she had lived in a minister's household, and had been brought up to know that nothing must disturb a man who was writing a sermon.

But John had hurriedly opened the door.
"Did you want to speak to me, dearest ?" he said, standing at the foot of the stairs, his pen still between his fingers.

"I heard your step." "But I must not interrupt you," she answered, smiling at him over the balusters.
"You never could interrupt me.

Come into the study and tell me what it is." "Only to ask you about a hymn which Alfaretta says is to be sung on Sunday," Helen said.