The young rustic made extravagant but purposely vain efforts to strike the hands of others, and Lottie watched the scene with laughing curiosity. Suddenly he wheeled round and struck her hands sharply; and to her horrified surprise it seemed but a second later that his repulsive face was almost against her own. But something came between, and, starting back, she saw the baffled youth imprint a fervent kiss on the back of Hemstead's hand.

There was a loud laugh at him from those who had expected to laugh with him. He swaggered up to Hemstead, and said threateningly, "What do you mean?"

"What do YOU mean?" asked Lottie, confronting him with blazing eyes. "It is well this gentleman interposed. If you had succeeded in your insult I should have had you punished in a way that you would not soon forget."

"It's only part of the game," muttered he, abashed by her manner.

"Part of the game?"

"Yes," giggled the tall girl, faintly; "it's a kissing game."

"Did you know it was such?" asked Lottie, indignantly, of De Forrest and Hemstead.

"Indeed I did not," said De Forrest; "and if you say so I'll give this fellow the flogging, anyway."

"Come right out, and do it now," was the pert response.

"All I can say is, Miss Marsden," explained Hemstead, "that I suspected something wrong, and took means to prevent it. How these nice-looking girls can allow this fellow to kiss them is more than I can understand."

"No lady would," said Lottie, as she swept disdainfully out; and under the withering influence of these remarks kissing games languished the rest of the evening; only young children, and a few of the coa.r.s.er-natured ones, partic.i.p.ating. But soon the absurdity of the whole scene overcame Lottie, and she laughed till the tears stood in her eyes.

As they were slowly descending the stairs a faded little woman said, "I'm glad to see you enjoying yourself, Miss Marchmont. It was very kind of you and your party to come so far."

"I am not Miss Marchmont," said Lottie, "though I came with her."

"Well, as the minister's wife, I would like her and all her party to know of our grateful appreciation."

"You thank us beyond our deserts. But are you the minister's wife?

I am glad to make your acquaintance"; and she held out her hand, which Mrs. Dlimm seemed glad to take.

At this moment there came the cry of an infant from one of the upper rooms.

"O, there goes my baby," said Mrs. Dlimm; "I thought I heard it before"; and she was about to hasten on.

"May I not go with you and see the baby?" asked Lottie.

What mother ever refused such a request? In a moment Lottie was in the one small room in which, on this portentous occasion, the three younger children were huddled, the others being old enough to take part in what, to them, was the greatest excitement of their lives, thus far.

Lottie looked curiously around, with the quick, appreciative eye by which ladies seem to gather accurately at a glance the effect of a costume and the style and character of an apartment and its occupants. But she politely, and from a certain innate interest, gave such attention to the baby as to win the mother's heart. It was but an ordinary baby, although the fattest and st.u.r.diest member of a rather pinched household; but Lottie wonderingly saw that to the faded mother it was a cherub just from heaven.

Lottie could not understand it. A perfumed baby, in lace and muslin, might be a nice pet if the nurse were always within call; but the sole care of this chubby-cheeked Moloch, that would sacrifice its mother as unconsciously and complacently as the plant absorbs moisture, seemed almost as prosaic and dreadful as being devoured alive.

"Does no one help you take care of that child?" asked she.

"Well, my husband and the elder children help some."

"Haven't you a nurse for all these children?"

"No, indeed. It's as much as we can do to clothe and feed them."

"Don't you keep any servants at all?"

"Yes, we have a girl in the kitchen, but she's almost as much bother as she is worth."

"How do you get along?"

"I hardly know--somewhat as the birds do out of doors."

"Are you happy?"

"I've hardly time to think. I think I am, though,--happy as most people. Some days bright, some days cloudy, and now and then a storm. That's the way it is with all, I imagine. We all have our crosses, you know, but by and by all will come right."

"I should be cross enough with all your crosses."

"They might make you patient. The crossest people I know are those who shun all crosses."

"Now I think of it, I'm inclined to believe that's true," said Lottie, reflectively. Then she whispered, as she walked softly to the mother's side, "Baby is going to sleep, isn't it?"

With different expressions they both peered into the full-moon face, two features of which, the eyes, were becoming obliterated by the white, drooping lids. Lottie looked as if she were examining a zoological specimen. Mrs. Dlimm gazed with a smile of deep content and tenderness.

The undisturbed rest of the child upon her bosom was a type of her own mind at that moment. She was nature's child, G.o.d's child, and the babe was hers.

To the true and simple children of nature, who, without thought of self or the public eye, are quietly doing their duty in their own little niches, these moments of peace with strange thrills of joy are constantly coming. If this worn mother could look down upon the child, and her plain, pale face grow beautiful with spiritual light, how must the G.o.d who inspires all love--who is the source of tenderness--have regarded her?

The expression of this woman's face puzzled Lottie beyond measure.

It was so incongruous, irreconcilable with the burdens, the weary cares, and ceaseless toil and anxiety of her lot. It was so out of keeping with the noisy throng and confused bustle that filled the house, and it dimly suggested to the proud belle a condition of mind before undreamt of in her philosophy.

Some new and curious thoughts stole into her heart as she watched the mother slowly rocking backward and forward, uttering a low, crooning lullaby,--the gentlest sound that ever falls on mortal ears. For some reason there came into her soul a sudden loathing of her own selfishness and callousness.

After the child had been laid in the cradle, she asked, "What did you mean when you said, 'It will all come right some day'?"

"Well, I suppose I meant that G.o.d's little children often get sorely perplexed with their cares and troubles in this world, but when we get home and sit down to rest and think it all over, it will then seem right."

"Home?"

"Yes, home in our Heavenly Father's house. That's the only real home we have. We only 'stop,' as the Irish say, here and there for a little while in this world."

"And do you think of heaven as a pleasant home and rest after what seems to me your very hard life?"

"Certainly. How do you think of it?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I have not thought much about it."

Before Mrs. Dlimm could reply, there came anything but a heavenly interruption. It was as if Moses and Aaron were within the cool and shadowy tabernacle, feasting on spiritual manna, and there came a delegation from the Hebrew camp, clamoring for the "leeks and onions of Egypt."

Though the congregation often said, "It's a pity Mrs. Dlimm is such a meek and quiet little woman," and though the self-appointed committee of ladies was so large, and the minister himself was downstairs, yet when the first real emergency of the evening arose, the upstairs members of the committee were helpless, and the best thing Mrs. Gubling, the leading spirit downstairs, could do, was to "slick up," as she said, and "go tell the parson's wife." But seeing Mr. Dlimm on the way, she beckoned him aside with a portentous nod. He, poor man, heard her tidings with dismay. He had fallen into the habit of taking all his difficulties either to the Lord or to his wife, and in this case he felt that both must come to his aid.

With Mrs. Gubling he at once hastened to the nursery, and entered rather abruptly.