“I will be down immediately,” was Mr. Foster’s prompt reply.  “Certainly you should have come for me.  I should have been very sorry indeed to disappoint Sallie.  Tell her I will be there in half an hour, Mr. Jones.”

And with a few added words of kindness from Abbie, Mr. Jones departed, looking relieved and thankful.

“That man,” said Mr. Foster, turning to Ester, as the door closed after him, “is the son of our old lady, don’t you think!  You remember I engaged to see her conveyed to his home in safety, and my anxiety for her future welfare was such that my pleasure was very great in discovering that the son was a faithful member of our mission Sabbath-school, and a thoroughly good man.”

“And who is Sallie?” Ester inquired, very much interested.

Mr. Foster’s face grew graver.  “Sallie is his one treasure, a dear little girl, one of our mission scholars, and a beautiful example of how faithful Christ can be to his little lambs.”

“What is supposed to be the matter with Sallie?” This question came from Ralph, who had been half amused, half interested, with the entire scene.

The gravity on Mr. Foster’s face deepened into sternness as he answered:  “Sallie is only one of the many victims of our beautiful system of public poisoning.  The son of her mother’s employer, in a fit of drunken rage, threw her from the very top of a long flight of stairs, and now she lies warped and misshapen, mourning her life away.  By the way”—­he continued, turning suddenly toward Mr. Ried—­“I believe you were asking for arguments to sustain my ‘peculiar views.’  Here is one of them:  This man of whom I speak, whose crazed brain has this young sad life and death to answer for, I chance to know to a certainty commenced his downward career in a certain pleasant parlor in this city, among a select gathering of friends, taking a quiet glass of wine!” And Mr. Foster made his adieus very brief, and departed.

Ralph’s laugh was just a little nervous as he said, when the family were alone:  “Foster is very fortunate in having an incident come to our very door with which to point his theories.”

Abbie had deserted her ottoman and taken one close by her father’s side.  Now she laid her bright head lovingly against his breast, and looked with eager, coaxing eyes into his stern gray ones.  “Father,” she said softly, “you’ll let your little curly have her own way just this time, won’t you?  I will promise not to coax you again until I want something very bad indeed.”

Mr. Ried had decided his plan of action some moments before.  He was prepared to remind his daughter in tones of haughty dignity that he was “not in the habit of playing the part of a despot in his own family, and that as she and her future husband were so very positive in their very singular opinions, and so entirely regardless of his wishes or feelings, he should, of course, not force his hospitalities on her guests.”