“I suppose I do,” Mildred replied musingly, “but he makes upon me the queer impression that he will never leave me alone—­that I can never wholly shake him off, and that he will appear like a ghost when I least expect it.”

Belle smiled significantly.  “There, you might as well speak plainly as look in that way,” Mildred concluded irritably.  “I foresee how it will be, but must submit and endure as best I can, I suppose.”

Belle’s anticipation proved correct, for just as they were nearly ready to start for the chapel Eoger appeared, and was a little awkward from diffidence and doubt as to his reception.  Mrs. Jocelyn’s kindness and Belle’s warm greeting somewhat reassured him, and atoned for Mildred’s rather constrained politeness.  While answering the many and natural questions about those whom he had left in Forestville, he regained his self-possession and was able to hold his own against Belle’s sallies.  “You have come to the city to stay?” she asked, point-blank.

“Yes,” he said briefly, and that was the only reference he made to himself.

She soon began vivaciously, “You must go with us to church and Sunday-school.  Here you are, an innocent and unprotected youth in this great wicked city, and we must get you under good influence at once.”

“That is my wish,” he replied, looking her laughingly in the face, “and that is why I came to see you.  If you have a class and will take me into it, I will accept all the theology you teach me.”

“Mr. Wentworth’s hair would rise at the idea of my teaching theology or anything; but I’ll look after you, and if you get any fast ways I’ll make you sorry.  No, I’m only a scholar.  Millie has a class of the worst boys in school, and if—­” A warning glance here checked her.

“Well, then, can’t I join your class?”

“Oh, no, we are all girls, and you’ll make us so bashful we wouldn’t dare say anything.”

“I think Mr. Atwood had better go with us to the chapel, accepting the conditions on which we first attended,” suggested Mrs. Jocelyn.  “If he is pleased, as we were, he can then act accordingly.”

“Yes, come,” cried Belle, who had resumed at once her old companionable and mirthful relations with Roger.  “I’ll go with you, so you won’t feel strange or afraid.  I want you to understand,” she continued, as they passed down the quaint old hallway, “that we belong to the aristocracy.  Since this is the oldest house in town, we surely should be regarded as one of the old families.”

“By what magic were you able to make so inviting a home in such a place?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s Millie’s work,” she replied.

“I might have known that,” he said, and a sudden shadow crossed his face.  Quickly as it passed away, she saw it.

“Yes,” she resumed in a low, earnest tone—­for she had no scruple in fanning the flame of his love which she more than half believed might yet be rewarded—­“Millie is one of a million.  She will be our main dependence, I fear.  She is so strong and sensible.”