In the parlor, after the other company had departed, Ester found herself the sole companion of Mr. Foster at the further end of the long room.  Abbie, half sitting, half kneeling on an ottoman near her father, seemed to be engaged in a very earnest conversation with him, in which her mother occasionally joined, and at which Ralph appeared occasionally to laugh; but what was the subject of debate they at their distance were unable to determine, and at last Mr. Foster turned to his nearest neighbor.

“And so, Miss Ester, you manufactured me into a minister at our first meeting?”

In view of their nearness to cousinship the ceremony of surname had been promptly discarded by Mr. Foster, but Ester was unable to recover from a sort of awe with which he had at first inspired her, and this opening sentence appeared to be a confusing one, for she flushed deeply and only bowed her answer.

“I don’t know but it is a most unworthy curiosity on my part,” continued Mr. Foster, “but I have an overwhelming desire to know why—­or, rather, to know in what respect, I am ministerial.  Won’t you enlighten me, Miss Ester?”

“Why,” said Ester, growing still more confused, “I thought—­I said—­I—­No, I mean I heard your talk with that queer old woman, some of it; and some things that you said made me think you must be a minister.”

“What things, Miss Ester?”

“Everything,” said Ester desperately.  “You talked, you know, about—­about religion nearly all the time.”

A look of absolute pain rested for a moment on Mr. Foster’s face, as he said:  “Is it possible that your experience with Christian men has been so unfortunate that you believe none but ministers ever converse on that subject?”

“I never hear any,” Ester answered positively.

“But your example as a Christian lady, I trust, is such that it puts to shame your experience among gentlemen?”

“Oh but,” said Ester, still in great confusion, “I didn’t mean to confine my statement to gentlemen.  I never hear anything of the sort from ladies.”

“Not from that dear old friend of ours on the cars?”

“Oh yes; she was different from other people too.  I thought she had a very queer way of speaking; but then she was old and ignorant.  I don’t suppose she knew how to talk about any thing else, and she is my one exception.”

Mr. Foster glanced in the direction of the golden brown head that was still in eager debate at the other end of the room, before he asked his next question.  “How is it with your cousin?”

“Oh she!” said Ester, brought suddenly and painfully back to all her troublesome thoughts—­and then, after a moment’s hesitation, taking a quick resolution to probe this matter to its foundation, if it had one.  “Mr. Foster, don’t you think she is very peculiar?”

At which question Mr. Foster laughed, then answered good humoredly:  “Do you think me a competent witness in that matter?”