"Oh, Monica, don't! We'll never have any more good times together," said Olive, and it must have been her bad angel who prompted her words; "if you do you'll have to leave me behind, for I'm not going to give in."
"I wish I could live like he said," and Monica's face looked wistful. "Sometimes I----"
"Well?"
"Sometimes I long to be able to write and tell dad that it is all settled. He would be so glad."
"Well, I don't see much in it," said Olive obstinately. Her better feelings were aroused by Monica's words, but she deliberately crushed them down.
"Oh, yes, there is; there's everything in it! You've only to look at that young clergyman, and your mother, and even Elsa, to see what a difference there is. Oh, Olive, if I had your mother to help me I would, really, say to God what we sang just now,
Take myself, and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee"--
and Monica's young face glowed with feeling.
"No, you wouldn't," was Olive's moody reply, "any more than I do. Of course, I mean to be a Christian some day, but not while I'm only a girl; I want some pleasure first."
"Oh, Olive, Olive, you little know the dark cloud that even now is beginning to gather over your head!"