"You don't mean," protested Arthur Townshend, "that you are going back to church again?"
"Alas! yes—Have some toast, won't you?—Father has his Bible class, and I teach a class in the Sabbath school. Buff, pass Mr. Townshend the butter."
"Thank you. But, tell me, do you walk all the way again?"
"Every step," said Elizabeth firmly. "We could get an electric car, but we prefer to trudge it."
"But why?"
"Oh! just to make it more difficult."
Elizabeth smiled benignly on the puzzled guest. "You see," she explained, "Father is on the Sabbath Observance Committee, and it wouldn't look well if his daughter ruffled it on Sabbath-breaking cars. Isn't that so, Father?"
Mr. Seton shook his head at his daughter, but did not trouble to reply; and Elizabeth went on:
"It's more difficult than you would think to be a minister's family. The main point is that you must never do anything that will hurt your father's 'usefulness,' and it is astonishing how many things tend to do that—dressing too well, going to the play, laughing when a sober face would be more suitable, making flippant remarks—their name is legion. Besides, try as one may, it is impossible always to avoid being a stumbling-block. There are little ones so prone to stumble that they would take a toss over anything."
"That will do, Elizabeth," said Mr. Seton.