about, but for the soft whisper of words which came to her ear.  She shut the door as softly and quickly again, and got into bed with a kind of awe upon her.  She had certainly heard people stand up in the pulpit and make prayers, and it seemed suitable that other people should bend upon cushions and bow heads while they did so; but that in a common-roofed house, on no particular occasion, anybody should kneel down to pray when he was alone and for his own sake, was something that had never come under her knowledge; and it gave her a disagreeable sort of shock.  She lay awake and watched to see how soon Mrs. Landholm’s light would go away; it died, the faint moonlight stole in through the window unhindered; and still there was no stir in the next room.  Elizabeth watched and wondered; till after a long half hour she heard a light step in the kitchen and then a very light fall of the latch.  She sprang up to look at the moon; it had but little risen; she calculated the time of its rising for several nights back, and made up her mind that it must be long past twelve.  And this a woman who was tired every day with her day’s work and had been particularly tired to-night! for Elizabeth had noticed it.  It made her uncomfortable.  Why should she spend her tired minutes in praying, after the whole house was asleep? and why was it that Elizabeth could not set her down as a fool for her pains?  And on the contrary there grew up in her mind, on the instant, a respect for the whole family that wrapped them about like a halo.

One morning when Elizabeth came through the kitchen to mount her horse, Mrs. Landholm was doing some fine ironing.  The blue habit stopped a moment by the ironing-table.

“How dreadfully busy you are, Mrs. Landholm.”

“Not so busy that I shall not come out and see you start,” she answered.  “I always love to do that.”

“Winnie,” said Elizabeth putting a bank bill into the little girl’s hand, “I shall make you my messenger.  Will you give that to the man who takes care of my horse, for I never see him, and tell him I say he does his work beautifully.”

Winifred blushed and hesitated, and handing the note back said that she had rather not.

“Won’t you give it to him!”

The little girl coloured still more.  “He don’t want it.”

“Keep your money, my dear,” said Mrs. Landholm; “there is no necessity for your giving him anything.”

“But why shouldn’t I give it to him if I like it?” said Elizabeth in great wonderment.

“It is a boy that works for my father, Miss Haye,” said Winthrop gravely; “your money would be thrown away upon him.”

“But in this he works for me.”

“He don’t know that.”

“If he don’t —­ Money isn’t thrown away upon anybody, that ever I heard of,” said Elizabeth; “and besides, what if I choose to throw it away?”

“You can.  Only that it is doubtful whether it would be picked up.”