'Guardian, you are always repeating that. I believe it's the only text you know by heart!'
Seeing Agatha's natural expression come again to her face—the teasing, audacious, little smile he knew so well—he was contented.
'It is the best I could remember, little woman. Now, promise me you will not fret any more to-night, while I am away. Catherine will come to you, unless she is unavoidably prevented.'
'I'll try to be reasonable. It would be much nicer if you could stay with me till she comes, though. There's something very odd about persuading young men and boys to go to a club on Sunday evenings, just to hear reading, when they could quite well go to church.'
'None are allowed in but those who have been to church in the morning, and Mr. Burnley tells me that many go to service (who used never to be seen in church before), just that they may be entitled to join our Sunday evening circle. We read interesting books to them, and sometimes there are recitations of poems,—it is not surprising how many great literary works there are which raise the heart and mind to God. Then we always begin and end with prayer. It is not a bad service itself, Agatha; and the young fellows would not go to church twice a day—they would probably spend their evenings in gambling and drinking, or in the company of street loafers. Beverbridge has its bad characters.'
'Now, why is it that you never address meetings of the club?' asked his ward mischievously. 'That was quite a speech!'
He laughed.
'I speak? My courage fails me even when I begin to read aloud! No, no, that is not the kind of action for which my poor powers are suitable.... Now, good-bye, my dear. Keep a brave heart until Catherine comes. Be God's plucky little soldier!'
Only half an hour later Agatha was nestling her face against Catherine Carmichael's shoulder, smiling up at her radiantly. They were talking of Agatha's own life,—its trials, pleasures, wants, and blessings.
'Oh, you can't guess how badly I've wanted a girl-friend, some one to tell everything to! I used to dream about you, when you were out in Australia, and I nearly began to write long letters to you.'