"No, sir."

"Don't ever hope to do anything without prayer. Indeed, we must look to G.o.d to do all. _We_ are nothing. If anything is to be accomplished for the service of Christ by our hands, it must be by G.o.d's grace working through us and with us; no other way. The power is His, always. So whatever you do, pray, and hope in G.o.d, not in yourself."

"Mr. Richmond," said Frances Barth, "I do not understand about 'carrying the message.' What does it mean?"

"You know what the message is? We are commanded to preach the gospel to every creature."

"But how can we do it?--people who are not ministers?"

"It is not necessary to get up into a pulpit to preach the gospel."

"No, sir; but--any way, how is one to 'carry the message'?"

"First, I would say, be sure that you have a message to carry."

"I thought you just said, Mr. Richmond, that the gospel is the message?" said Mrs. Trembleton.

"It is the material of the message; but you know it must be very differently presented to different people."

"I know; but how can you tell?"

"As I said, be sure that you have a message to carry. Let your heart be full of some thought, or some truth, which you long to tell to another person, or long that another person should know. Then ask the Lord to give you the right word for that person; and ask Him to let His power go along with it."

"Then one's own heart must be full first," said another lady, Mrs.

Barth, thoughtfully.

"It should be. And it may be."

"One has so little time to give to these things," said Mrs. Trembleton.

"Shall we serve the Lord with that which costs us nothing?" again said Mr. Richmond. But he did not prolong the conversation after that. He gave out a hymn and dismissed the a.s.sembly.

Matilda being quite in the front, was some distance behind her sisters in coming out. As she pa.s.sed slowly down the aisle, she came near two of her little acquaintances in one of the seats, who were busily talking.

"It would be so nice!" she heard the one say to the other.

"Where shall we do it?"

"There's no place at our house."

"No more there isn't at mine. There are so many people about all over.

Where can we go?"

"I'll tell you. Mr. Ulshoeffer has this place nice and warm long before Sunday-School time, on Sundays; let us come here. We could come awhile before the time, you know; and it would be so nice. n.o.body would interrupt us. Oh, there's Matilda Englefield--Matilda, won't you come too? Oh, I forgot; you are not one of the Band."

"Yes, I am," said Matilda.

"Why, you didn't rise the other night when we all rose. I looked over at you to see."

"I gave Mr. Richmond my name afterwards."

"Oh, did you! oh, that's good. Now, Matilda, wouldn't you like to come with Mary and me?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Why, Mary said she would like to begin and read the Life of Jesus, you know, to see how He did live; if we are to follow Him, you know; and I said I would like it too; and we're going to do it together. And we're coming here Sundays, before time for Sunday-School, to have a good quiet place where n.o.body can trouble us. Don't you want to come too, Matilda?"

"Yes. But other people will find it out and come too."

"We'll lock the door; till it is time for the people to come to Sunday-School, you know."

"But I don't believe _we_ can get in, Ailie," said Mary Edwards. "I guess Mr. Ulshoeffer keeps the door locked himself."

"I know he does; but I know Regina Ulshoeffer, and she'll get leave for us and get the key. I know she will. Then we'll come, won't we?

Good-night! Bring your Testament, Tilly!"

The little group scattered at the lecture-room door, and Matilda ran after her party. They were far ahead; and when she caught up with them they were deep in eager talk, which was almost altercation. Matilda fell behind and kept out of it and out of hearing of it, till they got home.

"Well!" said Mrs. Candy, as they entered the parlour, "what now? You do not look harmonious, considering. What have you had to-night?"

"An impossible sort of enthusiasm, mamma," said Clarissa, as she drew off her handsome furs.

"Impossible enthusiasm!" repeated Mrs. Candy.

"What has Mr. Richmond been talking about?" asked Mrs. Englefield.

"Why, mamma," said Let.i.tia, "we are all to spend our lives in feeding sick people, and clothing lazy people, and running after the society of wicked people, as far as I can make out; and our money of course goes on the same plan. I advise you to look after Maria and Matilda, for they are just wise enough to think it's all right; and they will be carrying it into practice before you know where you are."

"It is not so at all!" began Maria, indignantly. "It is nothing like that, mamma. You know Mr. Richmond better."

"I think I know you better, too. Look where your study books were thrown down to-day when you came from school. Take them away, before you do anything else or say anything more."

Maria obeyed with a gloomy face.

"Do you approve of Mr. Richmond, Aunt Marianne?" Clarissa asked. "If so, I will say no more; but I was astonished to-night. I thought he was a man of sense."

"He _is_ a man of sense," said Mrs. Englefield; "but I always thought he carried his notions rather far."

"Why, aunt, he would make missionaries and colporteurs and sisters of charity of us all. Sisters of charity are a magnificent inst.i.tution, of course; but what would become of the world if we were _all_ sisters of charity? And the idea! that everybody is to spend his whole time and all his means in looking up vagrants and nursing fever cases! I never heard anything like it in my life. That, and doing the work of travelling Methodists!"

"I wonder what the ministry is good for," said Mrs. Candy, "if everybody is to do the same work."

"I do not understand it," said Mrs. Englefield. "I was not brought up to these extreme theories myself; and I do not intend that my children shall be."

"But, mamma," said Maria, re-entering, "Mr. Richmond does not go into extreme theories."

"Did you eat an apple after dinner?" said her mother.

"Yes, ma'am."