That evening in the church hall, when the sale had ended, the fiddler tuned up his instrument, and several made ready for the dance. It was truly a pleasant sight which met the eyes of a number of the older ones as they sat back near the wall. Grouped around the large room the flower and strength of the neighbourhood chatted with one another, while waiting for the dance to begin. They seemed like one large family, these youths and maidens, who had known one another from childhood. Bright and happy were their faces, glowing with health, and the active exercise of daily life.
Somewhat apart from the rest stood Nellie Westmore, engaged in earnest conversation with Vivien Nelson. Presently the former turned partly around and her eyes rested upon Mrs. Larkins sitting quietly in one corner of the room. A bright smile illumined her face as she crossed over and sat down by her side.
"I am glad you stayed, Mrs. Larkins," she began. "I did not think you would care to remain."
"I like to see the young people enjoying themselves," Mrs. Larkins replied, "and I hope you will have a pleasant time, Nellie."
"I generally do," came the slow response; "but to-night my conscience troubles me."
"And in what way?"
"Oh, about my father."
"Why, is he sick?"
"No, not that. He is troubled somewhat in his mind, and I feel I should have stayed at home to cheer him up. I know he needs me to-night, and it was just his love which made him forget himself. He is always like that; thinking about others all the time."
"Don't worry, Nellie. Your father will have his books to occupy his mind."