As for Herbert, a strange calm had succeeded the tumult of the last few days. It seemed as if he had stepped into a new world. As he was leaving the room, he said, "Well, I have said I was ready to follow Christ, and I am, but I don't know the first step to take."
Mr. Earle had just drawn out his watch. Holding it up, he answered, "Take it toward home, eat your supper and feed your rabbits, and remember that you may as truly and really follow the Master in these every-day affairs us though you proclaimed the gospel from the pulpit. In fact, Herbert, you may sometimes find that it will require more grace to take up the common duties of life in the right spirit than to minister at the altar."
Herbert went home with a light step, and never once thought of the skating party, nor of the surprise his early return would occasion. He met Julia in the hall.
"Why, Bertie!" she began, "back already? I thought you were going to skate home by moonlight." Then anxiously, "Anything happened?"
"Yes," answered Herbert. "But you needn't be scared; nothing has happened to the skaters that I know of. The fact is, I didn't go."
"Didn't go!" echoed Julia. "Then where have you been?"
Herbert hesitated. Should he—could he tell her all about it now. It was so new, he had not got used to the deep peace and the strange happiness. Could he talk about it? How should he tell her? She waited for an answer; but as he looked up before he spoke, she exclaimed—
"What is it? I never saw you look that way before!"
"How? What way?"
"Why, you look so—so—as if the sunshine had got inside, and was pouring out through your eyes, and your mouth, too," she said, laughing.