"Thank you. I am missing from all my old haunts," he answered gravely. And the thought and the look went to something from which he was very sorry to be missing.
"But you will be soon well again—will you not? and among us again."
"I do not know," he said. "I am sometimes inclined to think my work is done."
"What work, Mr. Rhys?" said Julia. "Ferns, do you mean?"
"No."
"What work, Mr. Rhys?"
"I mean the Lord's work, Julia, which he has given me to do."
"Do you mean preaching?"
"That is part of it."
"What else is your work, Mr. Rhys?" said Julia, hanging about the couch with an affectionate eye. So affectionate, that her sister's rebuke of her forwardness was checked.