“Yes,” Ester answered gravely, too thoroughly in earnest to be amused now; “she is entirely different from any person that I ever saw in my life.  She don’t seem to think about any thing else—­at least she thinks more about this matter than any other.”

“And that is being peculiar?”

“Why I think so—­unnatural, I mean—­unlike other people.”

“Well, let us see.  Do you call it being peculiarly good or peculiarly bad?”

“Why,” said Ester in great perplexity, “it isn’t bad of course.  But she—­no, she is very good, the best person I ever knew; but it is being like nobody else, and nobody can be like her.  Don’t you think so?”

“I certainly do,” he answered with the utmost gravity, and then he laughed again; but presently noting her perplexed look, he grew sober, and spoke with quiet gravity.  “I think I understand you, Miss Ester.  If you mean, Do I not think Abbie has attained to a rare growth in spirituality for one of her age, I most certainly do; but if you mean, Do I not think it almost impossible for people in general to reach as high a foothold on the rock as she has gained, I certainly do not.  I believe it is within the power, and not only that, but it is the blessed privilege, and not only that, but it is the sacred duty of every follower of the cross to cling as close and climb as high as she has.”

“I don’t think so,” Ester said, with a decided shake of the head.  “It is much easier for some people to be good Christians than it is for others.”

“Granted—­that is, there is a difference of temperament certainly.  But do you rank Abbie among those for whom it was naturally easy?”

“I think so.”

This time Mr. Foster’s head was very gravely shaken.  “If you had known her when I did you would not think so.  It was very hard for her to yield.  Her natural temperament, her former life, her circle of friends, her home influences were all against her, and yet Christ triumphed.”

“Yes, but having once decided the matter, it is smooth sailing with her now.”

“Do you think so?  Has Abbie no trials to meet, no battles with Satan to fight, so far as you can discover?”

“Only trifles,” said Ester, thinking of Aunt Helen and Ralph, but deciding that Abbie had luxuries enough to offset both these anxieties.

“I believe you will find that it needs precisely the same help to meet trifles that it does to conquer mountains of difficulty.  The difference is in degree not in kind.  But I happen to know that some of Abbie’s ‘trifles’ have been very heavy and hard to bear.  However, the matter rests just here, Miss Ester.  I believe we are all too willing to be conquered, too willing to be martyrs, not willing to reach after and obtain the settled and ever-growing joys of the Christian.”

Ester was thoroughly ill at ease; all this condemned her—­and at last, resolved to escape from this net work of her awakening conscience, she pushed boldly on.  “People have different views on this subject as well as on all others.  Now Abbie and I do not agree in our opinions.  There are things which she thinks right that seem to me quite out of place and improper.”