To the so-called "broad thinker" of today, Satan comes as "an angel of light."

Mr. Allworth did not call on Mrs. Hadly and Mrs. Halloway. He had his own very unfavorable opinion of Christian Scientists and he didn't think it his duty to encourage such people to come to his church and perhaps introduce their pernicious doctrines among his flock. It was best "to leave well enough alone," he decided in his good old-fashioned way.

But Mr. Soffy called many times. Mr. and Mrs. Halloway liked him immensely. Both found him an excellent listener, and one who made concessions to their ideas in a most pleasing manner. Mr. Halloway was not over enthusiastic over Christian Science, but as his wife was such a devout believer, he fell in line gracefully, and decided it was about as near the truth as any other creed. He was a large, good-natured Englishman, brought up in the Episcopal Church in America, which is so spiritless and conventional that thousands like himself constantly drift away, not because of any dislike or hatred of the Church but from sheer indifference to the religious apathy and lifeless conditions. By contrast the positive convictions and enthusiasm in his wife's religion was, to say the least, attractive. So he tried to enter into her thoughts as far as his big, practical manhood would allow. But there were times when argument would evolve. And more often than not, it would happen so when Mr. Soffy called. Then it was that the minister showed to greatest advantage. With Mr. Halloway, Anna and Venna before him, he had three intelligent minds, all in reality differing considerably. With tact, he handled each one. Offending none, he almost proved that all were right, and left the impression that he was both tactful and broad-minded.

Mr. and Mrs. Halloway declared him "splendid," "an exceptional young man."

Venna acquiesced mildly enough, but with every meeting, her admiration for him increased.

Very often he would "just step in for a few moments" in the afternoon when he knew he would likely find her alone. These were the times Venna enjoyed the most. They would have such heart-to-heart talks upon all subjects. And there was also a great deal of planning to do concerning the affairs of the little church. Venna found herself soon a regular attendant and was early persuaded to take a Sunday School class for the summer.

"We need you so badly," Mr. Soffy had pleaded, and that was enough for Venna's ready sympathy. So she undertook a class of ten year old boys—laughing, rollicking country lads who had the name of being the worst class in the school. Venna soon learned to manage them and had each one "adoring" her before the month was past. "Bud" was her favorite, and every day he made his appearance with a bunch of flowers and a few remarks containing the latest news of Ashfield.

Then her idea of being interested in the young girls materialized into a recreation club, which brought joy to the hearts of the girls and considerable planning to the mind of Venna. Picnics, entertainments for the church, club meetings, etc., were always on the programme, and the life of the Ashfield lassie was a happier affair since Mrs. Hadly entered town. Of course, there were some people who criticized.

"I'm not so sure," remarked Miss Harriet Haskell, "but that the girls are giving less thought to Mission study."

"I fear that it is sadly true," replied her sister Mary dubiously. "These city people will turn our girls' heads with their frivolous ideas. Does it not occur to you, Harriet, that it is rather queer that Mr. Hadly is too busy to come to Ashfield?"

"I should say so, indeed," replied Harriet Haskell, her thin lips tightening in strong disapproval. "Perhaps she's a divorced woman. Nothin' would surprise me now-a-days. We've had some strange 'goin's on' in this town sometimes. We'd better keep our eyes open, I'm thinkin'."

"That we had," returned sister Mary in her mild but sure tone. "Those curls are certainly coquettish. I don't like the arrangement of them. They're not the Lord's doin', I'm persuaded of that."

"The Lord never put it into the heart of any married woman to try to fascinate a young minister," returned Harriet more sharply. "If these calls don't lessen a bit, I'm going to speak to Mr. Soffy myself. Indeed he's too young and good to understand scheming women. And even if she were innocent, and very little hope I have of that, the talk is all over town and you know it doesn't take much to start gossip here. People won't mind their business. It's strange to me how evil-minded every one is."

"The world is very sinful, that's true," returned mild Mary piously. "We must try and counteract the influence of all these frivolous ideas Mrs. Hadly is introducing. I was told she had all the young people dancing at her house last night."

"I know she did. She can't deny it. Mr. Soffy was there, too, and didn't disapprove. Thank heaven he refused to dance himself. Really, we can expect anything now-a-days. I spoke to him this morning about it, and he said, 'Really, Miss Harriet, you can't expect young people to think of religion all the time. Let them dance and have a good time, as long as they're in good company.'"

"He said that?" asked Miss Mary in horrified disapproval. "Why only a month ago, I heard him tell a young lady dancing was an insidious sin."

"Yes, my dear," replied Miss Harriet, "but he's talking through Mrs. Hadly now. Influence is everything, you know. He is so good, and it is our bounden duty to protect him. We must be 'wise as serpents and harmless as doves.' Just watch out and learn all you can and maybe we can stay the evil. Thank Goodness, she goes in a few months."

And so Venna was the subject of discussion in more homes than one. She didn't return calls or mix in with the pleasure of the older people. She pleaded lack of time and a desire to make the young people happy. But this excuse was received with strong doubt.

The wise heads got close together with a significant "Maybe!" and then an offended "Does she think Ashfield isn't good enough without her improvin'?"

Venna's ideas of country life and its sentiments were within the range of simple living, honest goodwill, and glorious inspirations from green hills and wild flowers. She interpreted it through her own nature and found it most attractive.

Seeing only the surface of this simple life in Ashfield naturally confirmed her ideas, and she found great happiness in this altogether new existence.

But the undercurrent in human nature surged here as elsewhere, and would eventually rise to the surface to play havoc in Venna's life.

Meanwhile Venna's ten girls were happy and worshipful in Venna's presence. The village wondered that the mothers seemed pleased, too. Bessie was a constant visitor with the city people and sharp as she was to detect village sentiment, she carefully kept all rumors from Venna, and gave her opinion airily in the store as to what "old fogies wished young people to be."

Ashfield was really enjoying itself. Unless you have lived in a little place like that, you cannot appreciate the pleasure the people derive from "some one new to talk about."

It was a wonderful June afternoon when Mr. Soffy sauntered in at the little white gate, and stood for a moment contemplating the roses arranged artistically in large jardinieres on the porch. Their fragrance was heavy and filled the air as one approached. Of course, Venna's hand had arranged them. Everything worth while in this home spoke of Venna. So thought Mr. Soffy. His admiration for her had developed into a strong passion. Two months ago Ashfield had seemed a monotonous hole. Now it was a rose garden, filled with love's anticipations. Everytime he left that rose garden, he knew it was but to come again into the presence of this exceptional woman. What if she were married? She was unhappy and had never known what love really meant. Why should a woman go through life unloved? Such "old fogy" ideas belonged to "Miss Mary" and "Miss Harriet" but not to broad-minded, up-to-date people. Of course, he must think of his church people. They were too far behind the times to appreciate any of nature's laws, so he must be careful. If he could win her love, it must be under cover, without any outside criticism to disturb their mutual happiness.

He could plainly see how they could live ideally. Their minds were seemingly an open book to one another, and her beauty would lead any man to do his best for her, and so the Rev. Mr. Soffy, with his broad, new way of thinking, was planning and hoping to make Venna the greatest love of his life. Other loves had been his, but this was to be the one supreme and lasting one, even though marriage by law was impossible. After all, an outward marriage was simply form. The true marriage was the union of two hearts. So reasoned Mr. Soffy and secretly justified himself.

While his thoughts and the fragrance of roses were filling him with dreamy satisfaction, Venna opened the door with baby Halloway in her arms.

As she stood in the open door-way she made a sweet picture of motherhood.

Conscience spoke:

"The crowning glory to woman is motherhood."

Passion answered:

"You are doing this woman no harm. She wouldn't be a mother anyway."

Conscience retreated.

"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Soffy. Mr. and Mrs. Halloway have gone to the city and won't be home until to-morrow. I volunteered to take care of baby, so I can't be with the girls to rehearse this afternoon. Would you mind stepping into the hall and telling them to go over their parts alone. I want to-night to be a glorious success. Come in a moment, won't you?"

"Your wonderful violin makes everything a success," he returned, entering the house, and holding out his arms to the baby in a most inviting manner.

Little Anna smiled and stretched out her wee baby hands in response. Taking her in his arms, he began to talk to her in true baby fashion while Venna looked on pleased.

"You ought to be married, Mr. Soffy, and have a family of your own. You like children, don't you?"

"Yes. They know how to love without criticising. It's some satisfaction to win hearts like they possess."

"Don't you like to be criticised?"

"Not particularly. The critic seldom knows the truth about the one he criticises. For instance," he said smiling down at her, "you're not the only one who tells me I ought to be married. If I could have the right woman, I would marry to-morrow. But as I cannot, I will never marry."

A passionate look of admiration accompanied his words. There was no mistaking the meaning of it.

With the sudden shock of this revelation, Venna's whole being tingled with shame. She dropped her eyes in confusion, but suddenly raised them again in anger.

What could she say? He had not said anything that she could resent.

For a moment they looked into one another's eyes in silence, his gaze pleading with her anger more eloquently than words could have done. Gradually her look softened and she held out her arms for Anna.

"It is time for me to bathe baby," she said as naturally as she could. "You will tell the girls?"

Mr. Soffy knew this was meant for him to go.

"Don't disappoint to-night."

"Oh, no—Stella will be through with her work then and will take Anna."

For a moment he stood irresolute. Should he speak of his love now? They were alone. But that look of anger—what did she mean by it? Perhaps she was not yet ready to accept broad ideas of love. No, he must not be rash. He would bide his time—though his passion longed to declare itself. So with a quick decision to go carefully for this great treasure, he held out his hand in his usual cheery way.

"Good-bye then. I won't detain you from your motherly duties. I'll look forward to seeing you to-night."

Without another word he was gone, and Venna found herself alone.

Impulsively she hugged and kissed baby Anna, and so gave vent to her odd mixture of emotions.

"O baby girl!" she murmured. "If only you were my own sweet babe, and I had to mother you morn, noon and night, then, dearie, nothing so awful could ever have happened?"

Anna gurgled for reply and cuddled comfortably against Venna's cheek, stretching out baby hands to play with the attractive curls.

Was he really in love with her or did she imagine it? What a fine man he was! How she admired him! He was such a good friend—why couldn't he remain so? No, she hadn't encouraged him to love her. She never dreamed of anything so dishonorable. But they were congenial. She might have known. In this lonely little place, it was natural for him to fall into channels of feeling without his own consent even. No, she wouldn't be angry—he couldn't help it.

She must pity him and respect his hopeless love. Of course, if he had spoken, it would be different. But he was too honorable for that. He couldn't help having eyes that expressed every feeling he possessed. His eyes were indeed eloquent. How strange that Fate threw them together at this impossible time.

If she had been free—who knows? She might have learned to love him.

These musings were suddenly interrupted by a loud bang of the kitchen door, and Stella's voice raised in sharp protest.

"If you don't learn to come in quietly, you'll stay out, young man."

Venna smiled. She knew this was Bud, who had free access at all times, much to Stella's disapproval.

There was a fairly well-controlled knock, and at Venna's "Come in" Bud entered on tip-toe.

He was always "washed up," with the shoes that Venna had given him well "shined," when he called on this wonderful lady of his dreams.

"Thot I'd step in an' give yer the news," he said, seating himself familiarly.

"Yes, Bud dear, but be quick for baby is waiting for her bath and I have several things to fix for the wonderful entertainment to-night. You're going to be there?"

"You bet! But, Missus Hadly, I've got spicy news. There's mermaids in town!"

"Mermaids!" laughed Venna. "What on earth do you mean, Bud?"

Bud colored.

"I may ha' got the name some twisted, but they're here, jes the samey. They're pretty bad 'uns, too, so everyone says."

"You'll have to find out the real name, Bud, before you can frighten me."

"There goes Bessie. I'll call her in," and, suiting his action to his words, he ran to the door and hailed Bessie.

Bessie entered the house, her rosy face all smiles.

"Say, Bess," said Bud confidently, "I've got the swell news jes' a bit twisted. What's the name o' those guys jes' come in, that everyone's slammin'?"

"Oh, you mean those two Mormon preachers. Just think, Mrs. Hadly, there are two young men walking through the country here without any money, just like tramps and calling themselves preachers for Christ. They say they are awful people and run away West with all the pretty girls they can find. Did you ever hear of them?"

Venna's eyes brightened with interest.

"Oh, yes, I've heard of them. I don't believe they are as bad as they're made out to be."

Venna's mind traveled quickly back to that memorable night on Broadway and the young Mormon's face came vividly to her recollection.

"Don't yer think they're not!" bursted in Bud excitedly. "They're bin astin' everyone in town ter sleep in their barns 'cause they hev no money. Every one's skiddooed 'em alrighty. Better look out, Bess! You're darn pretty, yer know!"

Venna laughed. "They wouldn't hurt anyone, Bud. That's my opinion."

"Is it?" asked Bessie puzzled.

"There they come now," exclaimed Bud, excitedly running to the window. "Shall I open the door and kick 'em out?" he asked, swelling with importance.

"You'll just be a good boy and say nothing. I'll open my door myself," she returned smiling, as she went into the hall, with baby Anna still clinging to her curls.

Bud looked after her with fearful admiration.

"Gosh! Bess! Ain't she brave? We'll stay quiet like, but won't budge till they git out. We may be needed," he said significantly.

As Venna opened the door, two tired looking young men respectfully lifted their hats.

The younger one, deathly pale, held the arm of the older one who spoke.

"Madam, we are Mormon missionaries, traveling without purse or scrip to preach the gospel of Christ. My companion here is ill from fatigue. If you will kindly permit us to sleep in your barn, we will be grateful."

Venna gazed at the speaker with a sudden thrill of recognition and pleasure. Before her stood the young preacher of Broadway. He was older and more manly, but there was no mistaking the earnest face with its deep-set gray eyes.

"Let us forget the barn. Come in, and we'll see what I can offer you," she said cordially.

As she led them into the living room, the smile of relief on the younger man's face touched Venna.

"Sit down—no, not there—take these comfortable chairs," she said, indicating two large cushioned armchairs which the weary travelers accepted gratefully.

Bessie looked down and nervously toyed with the lace of her pretty blue dress. Bud fixed his suspicious and defiant eyes upon the intruders, shifting his gaze from one to the other like a watchful bull-dog.

The elder man laughed.

"My lad, you don't look friendly. Come, shake hands. We're harmless."

Bud's hand was not forthcoming. He arose in the full dignity of his ten years, fearless and determined.

"I know yer, if she don't. What yer comin' here fer? Yer better look out! Spose yer think there's no men folks here ter lick yer, eh? Well, one's a' coming wi' the next train alrighty!"

The two young men smiled through their weariness.

"I'm glad, madam, you don't share his sentiments," said the younger.

"You must not mind Bud," Venna returned laughing. "He is my chief protector. Now, Bud, if I told you I knew one of these young men and respected him greatly, what would you do?"

Bud's eyes grew round with wonder and Bessie looked up in astonishment.

The young men watched Venna keenly, surprised at this method of subduing Bud.

Bud's voice was rather reluctantly hesitating.

"Spose, Missus Hadly, if they was yer friends they'd ha' ter be alrighty!"

Bessie rose rather hurriedly, anxious not to offend her new friend, but more anxious to feel sure she was out of danger.

"I'll have to hurry on to rehearsal now. I'll see you to-night," and with a timid glance at the two intruders she said a hurried good-bye and was gone.

"Now Bud, dear, you run on, too," said Venna kindly. "I want to talk to my friends alone awhile—friends—you understand. Bud? Don't forget—friends."

Bud's round face rippled into a broad grin.

"Well, I'll be jiggered! Some news I'll give 'em back alrighty. An' here I've bin slammin' wi' the rest o' em! Sorry, right sure I am. Shake!"

And Bud put forth both hands heartily. The young men pressed the little hands hard.

"We'll be good friends. Bud—you always go on defending the ladies!"

"You bet! When they 'semble her!"

The beloved "her" stooped over to kiss him good-bye.

"On your way out. Bud, tell Stella I said you were to have three big sugar cookies. Also ask Stella to take baby for awhile."

"Golly! Thanks!" And Bud disappeared.

When Stella had taken baby, Venna seated herself opposite the young men and regarded them seriously.

"They say terrible things about you, don't they? You don't look that kind."

"Do you believe them?" asked the older one, fixing his earnest gaze upon her unflinchingly.

"No. I might have though, if I hadn't met you before. Do you remember one night on Broadway, over two years ago, when you were preaching, a girl stepped up and played the violin for you?"

"Indeed, yes," he replied, quickly. "And you?"

"I was that girl. Your earnestness that night compelled me to believe in your sincerity. I read all your interesting tracts, and wished several times that I could see you again and talk them over."

The missionary gave a big sigh.

"My! You can't possibly realize what a joy it is to meet someone at last who really wants to hear our message. It is like an oasis in a desert. God surely led us here."

"I believe He did," returned Venna, smiling. "But we won't talk now. I have a spare room I wish you to have until you are quite rested for another trip. If you will retire now and wash up a bit, I will get my maid to prepare you a little lunch. You're hungry?"

"We've eaten nothing for two days," said the younger one, trying to smile but looking rather sad at the effort.

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Venna, horrified. "Come, I will show you your room, and hurry down again, for you both look pale from hunger."

"We can never thank you enough for this. Miss."

"Mrs. Hadly is my name," said Venna with simple dignity. "And yours?" she asked as they followed her upstairs.

"My name is Hallock. My companion is Brother Johnson," returned the older one.

Venna led them to the open door of a large airy room, the guest room, furnished daintily in blue and white.

The young men peered in. "Surely not for us?" said the younger. "We wouldn't like to disturb such daintiness."

"Go right in and make yourself at home. Daintiness is always refreshing when one is tired. I will give you just ten minutes to reappear!" and with her most winning smile, she left them.

The two young men stood for a moment looking at one another.

"Some one always materializes to save us on the last stretch," remarked the younger in a tired voice.

"Come brace up, old boy. You'll feel better when you have a rest. She's wonderful, isn't she?"

"Yes, God is good to send us here. I certainly wouldn't have lasted another day."

Meantime Venna surprised Stella into consternation.

"Quick, Stella! Something—anything to eat. Just set the table with anything. Put baby in the chair. They're just about starved. My heart just aches for them."

"Who's starved, ma'am? Have they come home early and nothing to eat in the city—that's no sense, sure," returned Stella, bustling about nervously.

"No, no, Stella. They haven't come home yet. It's two young men preaching throughout this wicked country of ours—just think, Stella! Preaching! Trying to save souls, and they're practically starving. They'll be down in a few minutes and we'll feed them well!"

Crash went a plate! Venna turned to see Stella standing, a picture of sudden fear, pale as death.

"You—don't—mean—the Mormons—are in—this house?" she gasped.

"Why, Stella! What on earth has frightened you. Of course, I do."

"O ma'am, last night at the party, everybody's man or maid was informed about those awful men. Aren't you afraid? I'll never sleep under the same roof with them, ma'am, that I won't. What will Mrs. Halloway say?"

"Look here, Stella, I'll have to tell you what I told Bud. I know one of these men. It's all talk. They're awfully good. Now hasten to prepare for my friends."

Stella's color gradually returned. "Are you sure, ma'am? Of course, if you've known them before I won't listen to others—but it's awful strange business, ma'am, it is—yes, I'm not glad they're here. Won't they go, ma'am?"

"Not if I wish them to stay!" replied Venna with dignity.

Stella always knew what that tone meant and in silence set the table lavishly. However, within her, there were throbbings of her poor heart that she had never experienced before and strange sensations of unusual chills crept up and down her being.

"It may be all right, but"—and she shook her head doubtfully.

Meanwhile Bud delightedly made his way to the store. There were a few villagers buying anything from a two-cent stamp to a bag of chicken feed. Boss Holden was not rushed. Afternoon buyers were always leisurely. Now was Bud's opportunity. He entered the store noisily.

"What d'yer think?" he asked, with both hands thrust deep into his pockets.

"Too warm to think, Bud," replied Boss Holden, smiling.

"Not w'en yer correctin' error," returned Bud, with serious importance, looking from one to the other.

"Error? That's some word for you. Bud! What's up now? You're as good as a 'Daily.' Why don't you print yourself black and white?" said Holden, with a laugh.

"Cause the print 'ud stick and news is allus changing. Yer know the talk about the mer—Mormon fellers? Well, every one's twisted. They're alrighty, I tell you."

Mr. Allworth contracted his Methodist brows into a slow frown.

"Who's been deceiving you, my lad? The Mormons themselves maybe? Stay clear of them. They'll do you no good."

"It's not themselves," returned Bud quickly. "It's Mrs. Hadly. She ses they're her friends. They're going ter stay wi' her. So they're alrighty, eh? What yer say ter thet?"

"Mrs. Hadly's friends!" exclaimed Miss Harriet Haskell, dropping her sugar to the floor in a general spill.

"I said it!" returned Bud decidedly. "An' the hull town's bin slammin' her friends. Nasty, mean, eh?"

Mr. Allworth never cared much for Miss Harriet, but this was a trying moment when all Christian hearts should be united. He looked at the old lady beseechingly.

"What can we do about this. Miss Harriet? Their evil influence will even spread to the children!"

"Isn't it awful?" came in almost frightened response. "Suppose—suppose we unite the forces of our churches to stay this evil. It's really a menace!"

"Now I see why Mrs. Hadly loved girls. I always had my suspicions of her. And now! Oh, it's too awful to think of!"

There were various degrees of fear expressed on the faces of the listeners.

Bud's cheeks were puffing out with fiery redness. At last he exploded.

"If anyone's goin' ter slam Missus Hadly, I'll make it hot fer them!"

"Shame o' yer. Bud! I'll tell yer mother o' yer impudence!" spoke up one shrewd-eyed little widow who received scraps from Miss Haskell's larder.

"I'm not ashamed! You bet, I'm not," defiantly returned Bud. "She's the best 'un in this mean old scrap-heap, where a feller can't lose a button 'thout every one a' knowing it!"

"Damn it, you're right. Bud!" exclaimed Boss Holden, bringing his fist down suddenly upon the counter. "Mrs. Hadly's one fine little woman. She shan't be talked over in my store!"

Mr. All worth gasped.

Miss Harriet paled.

The on-lookers smiled.

This was the limit of endurance.

"My dear man," said Allworth on recovering, "if you can't join a church, at least be respectful."

"And keep your swearing for other company, please!" added Miss Harriet sharply. "Come, Mr. Allworth, let us leave this place and talk the matter over like Christians!"

Exeunt the leaders of the flock.

Boss Holden drew a deep breath and laughed.

Bud jumped up on the counter and slapped Holden's arm.

"Bully! Boss! Yer good stuff!"

"So are you, Bud. Here!" and Holden's big hand transferred some bright alluring gum drops to the little outstretched, "ever-ready" one.

"To hell with their gossip!" exclaimed Boss to the onlookers.

"Them's my sentiments, too!" added Bud joyously.

While Bud was playing the hero at Holden's store, Bessie was doing her part with the girls. However, she was fortunate in finding no opposition.

"If they're Mrs. Hadly's friends, they'll pass," all agreed.

"What are they like? Are they good-looking? Are they pious?" were the questions thrown at Bessie with girlish impatience.

"They're just ordinary men, rather pale and tired, of course. Don't suppose they'll come out to-night. We'll all drop in to see Mrs. Hadly to-morrow, accidentally, you know. What fun! Let's plan to scare the 'fogies' in town!"

And instead of rehearsing, the girls planned.