"Yes, sir," replied Ellen. "But you must turn to the left when you get to the bottom of the lane, and take the path across the fields, which you will see. That will take you direct to the house."
"Thank you, thank you," said the stranger, standing still, however, and looking about him with an observant eye. "Do you live in that house?"
"Yes, sir," answered Ellen.
"Will you tell your parents, for perhaps they may not have heard of it, that there will be preaching this evening in Farmer Holroyd's barn at seven o'clock, and that I shall be very happy to see them there, if they are able to be present—and you also, if you can accompany them," he added, kindly.
"Thank you, sir," said Ellen, with some hesitation. "I'll tell them. But father and mother are mostly too busy to go anywhere."
"Are they? I'm sorry for that. But you are not too busy, I suppose?"
Ellen coloured, for she knew she must appear to him an idler. She felt no desire to attend the meeting in Farmer Holroyd's barn, yet was at a loss for an excuse for not doing so.
"No," she said, in answer to his remark. "But I do not know that I shall be able to come."
Her manner plainly said, "I do not care to come"; and so he understood it.
"I shall be glad to see you there, if you can manage it," he said, gently. "I should be sorry to think that your heart is indifferent to Him who is your best friend. Do not, I pray you, make the great mistake of finding time and inclination for everything save the 'one thing needful.'"