A November gale was raging; the wind was howling mournfully around the crescent, and the rain was descending in torrents from a leaden sky.
"Have you prepared your work for to-morrow, Marigold?"
"Yes, Aunt Mary."
"We called upon the Wakes this afternoon," Miss Holcroft informed her niece presently, "and found husband and wife both at home. I think my first impressions of Mrs. Wake were correct. We like her exceedingly."
"Muriel is very fond of her," Marigold replied, "and I really think she is growing to love her father too. She sees so much more of him now he is married, and she says he seems quite happy and contented at home."
"Because his wife makes everything cheerful and comfortable for him. By the way, I have not seen Muriel here lately, how is that? I suppose you are still great friends?"
"Oh yes! But she has very little time to spare, Aunt Mary! She is working much harder at school this term than she did last. Really, she seems hardly like the same girl. Miss Smith says she never saw anyone so altered and improved in her life as Muriel. She is much nicer to the others, and she doesn't try to make mischief, or tell fibs, now."
"How has the change come about?" Miss Holcroft asked, greatly interested.
"I think she is trying to fight the good fight of faith, Aunt Mary!"
"You were the first to suggest that idea to her, were you not, my dear?"