'Believe! believe!' broke forth the girl. 'I suppose I do believe! I very nearly didn't when I found it all sounded so inadequate and empty!'
'He only can be her Teacher,' whispered Miss Bridget; but her sister, with true warmth of love and hope, said, 'He is teaching her;—but, dear Angela, we will do our best by praying for or with you, or pointing the way to the best of our power.'
At that moment Stella came in, and after quietly giving her hand to the visitors, she said, 'Please, Angel, Clement wants to know if you have the key of the walnut-press.'
'No! I don't know,' she crossly said, after feeling in her pocket in vain.
'Most likely it is in the pocket of your blue skirt,' said Stella. 'May I go and look?'
'No! I won't have my things pulled about! I don't believe it's there. What does he want?'
Stella reluctantly answered, 'We are getting the Church ready; he wants the pulpit-banner with the triangles.'
To the visitors this sounded like profane play at such a time. 'Poor child!' they said; 'are these the devices that fritter away the deep lessons of grief?'
'Stella has devices enough,' muttered Angela under her breath; but the little maiden answered, 'We don't want to be sad;' but, spite of the pensive gentle tone, it seemed to the Hepburn sisters mere levity and desire to escape sorrow.
However, they rose to take leave, telling Angela they would always be at her service; and as she accompanied them through the hall, came Clement on the wake of his messenger, in distress for the key. She dashed impetuously up-stairs—found it where Stella had suggested, and flew down again with it.