"Well," said Lois, half laughing, "since you are here, I may as well take the good of it."
And then Mr. Dillwyn had got things as he wanted them.
"I ventured to assume, a little while ago, Miss Lois, that duty was taking you out into this storm; but I confess my curiosity to know what duty could have the right to do it. If my curiosity is indiscreet, you can rebuke it."
"It is not indiscreet," said Lois. "I have a sort of a Bible class, in the upper part of the village, a quarter of a mile beyond the church."
"I understood it was something of that kind, or I should not have asked. But in such weather as this, surely they would not expect you?"
"Yes, they would. At any rate, I am bound to show that I expect them."
"Do you expect them, to come out to-day?"
"Not all of them," Lois allowed. "But if there would not be one, still
I must be there."
"Why?—if you will pardon me for asking."
"It is good they should know that I am regular and to be depended on. And, besides, they will be sure to measure the depth of my interest in the work by my desire to do it. And one can do so little in this world at one's best, that one is bound to do all one can."