took Sadie’s, or picked up Julia’s from under the table, or the old one on a shelf in the corner, with one cover and part of Revelation missing—­it mattered not one whit to her which—­for there were no pencil marks, and no leaves turned down, and no special verses to find.  She thought the idea of marking certain verses an excellent one, and deciding to commence doing so at once, cast about her for a pencil.  There was one on the round table, by the other window; but there were also many other things.  Abbie’s watch lay ticking softly in its marble and velvet bed, and had to be examined and sighed over; and Abbie’s diamond pin in the jewel-case also demanded attention—­then there were some blue and gold volumes to be peeped at, and Longfellow received more than a peep; then, most witching of all, “Say and Seal,” in two volumes—­the very books Sadie had borrowed once, and returned, before Ester had a chance to discover how Faith managed about the ring.  Longfellow and the Bible slid on the table together, and “Say and Seal” was eagerly seized upon, just to be glanced over, and the glances continued until there pealed a bell through the house; and, with a start, and a confused sense of having neglected her opportunities, this Christian young lady followed her cousin down stairs, to meet all the temptations and bewilderments of a new day, unstrengthened by communion with either her Bible or her Savior.

That breakfast, in all its details, was a most bewitching affair.  Ester felt that she could never enjoy that meal again, at a table that was not small and round, and covered with damask nor drink coffee that had not first flowed gracefully down from a silver urn.  As for Aunt Helen, she could have dispensed with her; she even caught herself drawing unfavorable comparisons between her and the patient, hardworking mother far away.

“Where is Uncle Ralph?” she asked suddenly, becoming conscious that there were only three, when last evening there were four.

“Gone down town some hours ago,” Abbie answered.  “He is a business-man, you know, and can not keep such late hours.”

“But does he go without breakfast?”

“No—­takes it at seven, instead of nine, like our lazy selves.”

“He used to breakfast at a restaurant down town, like other business-men,” further explained Aunt Helen, observing the bewildered look of this novice in city-life.  “But it is one of Abbie’s recent whims that she can make him more comfortable at home, so they rehearse the interesting scene of breakfast by gas-light every morning.”

Abbie’s clear laugh rang out merrily at this.

“My dear mother, don’t, I beg of you, insult the sun in that manner!  Ester, fancy gas-light at seven o’clock on an August morning!”

“Do you get down stairs at seven o’clock?” was Ester’s only reply.

“Yes, at six, or, at most, half-past.  You see, if I am to make father as comfortable at home as he would be at a restaurant, I must flutter around a little.”