“The one that says not to go,” she replied, without hesitation.

“I should stand by that one if I were you,” he advised.

“I will,” she said, and slipped her hand in his as they went down the stairs.

At the breakfast table the dreaded discussion was precipitated.  Mrs. Gray addressed her daughter.

“Winifred, dear,” she said, “have you looked at your new white dress to see if it requires anything to be done before Mrs. Butterworth’s party?  Did we not think the girdle should be altered slightly?”

“I was looking at it this morning, mother,” faltered Winifred, and Hubert shot a sympathetic glance across the table.

“Will it need altering, do you think?”

“N—­no,” she hesitated, “I think it is all right.”  Then she girded the loins of her intention and added:  “But I think, mother, if you do not mind, I should prefer not to go to Mrs. Butterworth’s party.”

“Why, Winifred!” exclaimed her mother in surprise.  “What can you be thinking of?  The invitations were accepted long ago.  You are not ill, certainly?”

“Oh, no!” said Winifred.  “But I think I can excuse myself to Mrs. Butterworth so that she will not be offended.  My chief regret will be if it disappoints you, mother.”

“But what can be your reasons?” said Mrs. Gray.  “They must be very good if you would decline the invitation at this late day.  It will be very rude unless you are positively hindered.”

“I know it,” said Winifred humbly.  “But the reasons seem very strong to me.”

She was of a sympathetic nature, and it was easy to look at things through another’s eyes.  She saw the case clearly from her mother’s standpoint, and it was difficult to muster her own defense.  But she prayed inwardly that the One she sought to please would come to her aid, and He did.  It was no small help, also, that Hubert, strong-minded and firm as a rock, was on her side.  She went on bravely, but in a low voice and with downcast eyes: 

“You know I have begun to try to worship God, mother; and to know Him just a little is the sweetest thing I ever knew.  Hubert and I were reading the Bible together Sunday”—­she glanced across at him appealingly, and his face encouraged her—­“and we read some of the words of Jesus to His Father.  He said that we—­that is, those who were given to Him—­were ‘not of the world,’ just as He is not.  It impressed me very much.  I could not help seeing Mrs. Butterworth’s party, and it seemed to me like ‘the world,’ and that perhaps I did not belong there.  It seemed so very, very different from what we were reading, that I thought I never could go again to such a place.  I shall be very glad, if you don’t mind it too much, mother, if I may stay at home?”

She stopped and waited for her answer.  There was silence for a moment, and then Mrs. Gray, who had passed through various stages of apprehension and distress as her daughter spoke, replied as calmly as possible: