But her first day in New York, despite the strangeness of everything, was full of delight to her.  They did not go out, as Ester was supposed to be wearied from her journey, though, in reality, she never felt better; and she reveled all day in a sense of freedom—­of doing exactly what she pleased, and indeed of doing nothing; this last was an experience so new and strange to her, that it seemed delightful.  Ester’s round of home duties had been so constant and pressing, the rebound was extreme; it seemed to her that she could never bake any more pies and cakes in that great oven, and she actually shuddered over the thought that, if she were at home, she would probably be engaged in ironing, while Maggie did the heavier work.

She went to fanning most vigorously as this occurred to her, and sank back among the luxurious cushions of Abbie’s easy chair, as if exhausted; then she pitied herself most industriously, and envied Abbie more than ever, and gave no thought at all to mother and Sadie, who were working so much harder than usual, in order that she might sit here at ease.  At last she decided to dismiss every one of these uncomfortable thoughts, to forget that she had ever spent an hour of her life in a miserable, hot kitchen, but to give herself entirely and unreservedly to the charmed life, which stretched out before her for three beautiful weeks.  “Three weeks is quite a little time, after all,” she told herself hopefully.  “Three weeks ago I hadn’t the least idea of being here; and who knows what may happen in the next three weeks?  Ah! sure enough, Ester, who knows?”

“When am I to see Mr. Foster?” she inquired of Abbie as they came up together from the dining-room after lunch.

“Why, you will see him to-night, if you are not too tired to go out with me.  I was going to ask about that.”

“I’m ready for anything; don’t feel as if I ever experienced the meaning of that word,” said Ester briskly, rejoiced at the prospect of going anywhere.

“Well, then, I shall carry you off to our Thursday evening prayer-meeting—­it’s just our meeting, you see—­we teachers in the mission—­there are fifty of us, and we do have the most delightful times.  It is like a family—­rather a large family, perhaps you think—­but it doesn’t seem so when we come on Sabbath, from the great congregation, and gather in our dear little chapel—­we seem like a company of brothers and sisters, shutting ourselves in at home, to talk and pray together for a little, before we go out into the world again.  Is Thursday your regular prayer-meeting evening, Ester?”

Now it would have been very difficult for Ester to tell when her regular prayer-meeting evening was, as it was so long ago that she grew out of the habit of regularly attending, that now she scarcely ever gave it a thought.  But she had sufficient conscience left to be ashamed of this state of things, and to understand that Abbie referred to the church prayer-meeting, so she answered simply—­“No; Wednesday.”