"And I like Mr. Wesley's hymns," added Meg, with decision. "I think the words and tunes are beautiful."
"Why, how do you know them?" asked Mrs. Thorpe.
Mrs. Davis looked a little embarrassed.
"Well, you know my poor Annie has been in a very low-spirited and dwining way ever since her misfortune. One could hardly get a word out of her by times for days together, and she took no interest in any thing. I was much afraid she would go out of her mind. But somehow, I don't know how, Eppie get talking with her, and one evening she says to me—
"'Mother, if you don't say no, I want to go and hear the Methodist preacher on the Fell to-morrow morning.'
"I was that surprised that I did not know what to think, for she had hardly spoken for a month, and you know she has felt that hard toward me that she would not look at me if she could help it. Now what would you have done, Cousin Thorpe?"
"I should have let her go."
"Well, and so I did. Says I, 'Nan, my dear, you may go, and welcome, if you will let Meg go with you, for you know you are not very strong,' says I, 'and I should feel easier in my mind if I knew she was along.'
"So they were up and away before it was fairly light. I waited with some anxious thoughts for her to come home, and the minute she got in, I saw that some change had come over her. It was like as if a hard set mask had fallen, and showed my own Nan's face underneath as it used to be before she saw that—well, I won't call him by name.
"'Well, Nan, did you have a good preaching?' says I.