If Dame Gossip enjoyed revelling in the good instead of the evil, what universal joy her tongue would give!

Venna was late to her entertainment. Anna Halloway had telephoned that business would delay them in New York for several days. Would Venna mind if she were alone that long? If so, Anna told her to come in with Stella and the baby.

Venna answered that she would rather stay in Ashfield, and told Anna not to worry about her. Everything was all right and baby fine. She did not say anything about her new visitors—it wouldn't be easy to explain over the phone. She knew Anna would have done the same thing.

Brother Johnson and Brother Hallock (Venna thought it was odd but rather nice for them to call one another "Brother") certainly had enjoyed the meal Venna prepared. She enjoyed watching their delight with everything. The mother in her was touched.

"Think of them having no one to take care of their meals, and just eating anything they chance to get!"

After they had joyfully feasted, Venna excused herself and hurried her duties through as quickly as possible. Nevertheless she was late. The girls were all a trifle excited when she arrived, but the curtain soon went up, and the unusually large audience was quiet.

The play was a great success and Venna never played her violin more wonderfully. Mr. Soffy sat in a front seat and Venna felt his dark eyes watching her constantly. His admiration seemed to stimulate her to do her best. But withal the atmosphere of the evening was disquieting. So much whispering in the audience, so many furtive looks cast upon her.

What was unusual? Venna felt a strangeness but couldn't explain it.

After the entertainment was over, she did not come forward as usual, but busied herself with the girls clearing things up, and did not notice their suppressed giggles.

Mr. Soffy had lingered behind to escort Venna home. He always found an excuse for this, if she were alone. Miss Harriet and Miss Mary lingered, too, with the intention of not leaving him in danger, but he thwarted their good intentions with a bland smile.

"Now, don't you bother waiting for me. Miss Mary," he said in his pleasantest tone. "I wish to consult Mrs. Hadly regarding the picnic, and seeing her now will save me a call, you know."

"Oh, very well!" returned Miss Mary. "We will be going on then."

And as they were "going on" Miss Mary's head nodded with satisfaction. "The dear boy! You see, Harriet, my advice has been timely. He's trying to cut down his calls!"

"About time!" replied Miss Harriet sharply. "But it's her fault—not his!"

At this moment Mrs. Hadly found herself hurriedly kissed by her girls.

"Quick, girls! They'll be up the hill before we catch them," exclaimed Bessie impatiently. The girls all laughed.

"What on earth are you up to?" asked Venna, smiling.

"We'll tell you later—some good joke!" exclaimed Bessie, as she and her companion rushed out of the hall, throwing kisses back to her as they went.

"Be careful!" she called after them.

Alone with Mr. Soffy, Venna felt unusually embarrassed. There was a selfish pleasure in knowing he loved her, but the knowledge was disquieting to her conscience. She should be sorry, not glad. How weak she was in her loneliness!

The world seemed all wrong to her to-night. Here was Mr. Soffy with an impossible love, and at home were her guests with their impossible religion. Everything seemed in the wrong place.

As they left the vacant hall together, the moon was up in all her glory. The road before them was lit with a soft radiance.

"Let us walk awhile before I take you home," said Mr. Soffy. "The night is wonderful, and I want to talk to you."

"I think not to-night, Mr. Soffy, unless—you really must talk to me," Venna answered, her feelings as contradictory as her words.

"Yes, it is for your good," he replied quietly.

Venna was relieved—and with the relief, she condemned herself. The idea of her having a shade of a thought that he would speak of love.

They walked on in silence for a few moments. The night was wonderfully alluring.

"A perfect night for lovers!" thought Mr. Soffy, glancing at Venna, who was drinking in the beauty of the scene with a rapt expression. "How beautiful she is!"

"If human hearts were only as peaceful as nature!" remarked Venna quietly.

"You forget, Mrs. Hadly. To-night is wonderfully serene, to-morrow may bring a storm that will transform nature into wildness."

"That is very true," returned Venna. "After all, there is a great analogy between the spiritual and the material. I can see how the Christian Scientists can stretch the point and believe one is but the expression of the other. I wish I could accept all their doctrines. You don't know, Mr. Soffy, how I long for real concrete thinking on religious questions. If I only possessed a strong, sure belief!"

"Oh, I think you believe enough—more than I do even. I think there is greater pleasure in freedom of thought. Let your mind wander at will—you'll get more out of life. Strive to be broad, not narrow."

"Yes, I know that is the idea in the religious thought of to-day. But it doesn't somehow satisfy me. Truth is like a river, having a source and a destination. If the river broadens too much, it overflows the banks and ruins the very limitations that give it beauty."

"You ought to be a Catholic," returned Mr. Soffy, smiling.

"No, then the river would be so choked with rocks and weeds, that its course would be turbulent and without freedom."

"What would you be then?" asked Mr. Soffy, laughing. "Please don't start another sect in the Christian world. There are only hundreds now!"

"Never fear," she returned, "but I shall always long for truth, even if I never find it. What is it so important you wish to say to me?"

"It is in the way of advice and I know you will not be offended. I'm too interested in you to have you talked about. I wish to warn you."

Venna looked her surprise.

"Yes, of course, you're surprised. Women like you never see anything except through their own conceptions. It is a sure sign of your innocence. But really you must be more worldly wise."

"I don't understand you," she said, laughing. "What awful thing have I done?"

"Simply a kind Christian act, but it won't go in Ashfield. It's all over town that you are housing two Mormon preachers, as your friends, too. This labels you with everyone as 'Doubtful.' I wouldn't have a breath of scandal attached to your name, but already the village is buzzing."

"You don't mean that"—, but words failed Venna and she stopped short in angry embarrassment.

"I mean you are the subject of gossip. Gossip grows like a weed here. I hate to wound you, Mrs. Hadly, but it's for your own good. Didn't you notice your girls hurrying off to-night? They take it as a big joke, and without meaning it, they'll make things worse for you. I overheard them planning to be the first to tell Miss Harriet and Miss Mary how fine the Mormon preachers were and how they were all going to call to-morrow. They take a delight in shocking the old ladies, who won't stand shocking. I know them. I live with them, you know."

"So this is the real character of the simple life I admired so much!" exclaimed Venna, in a tone more sad than angry. "How disappointing human nature is!"

"Not if you expect little—then you find a great deal of good in people. You should never start life with too high a standard for people to measure up to. The idealist is always disappointed. The 'simple life' attracted you. You didn't realize any 'hidden depths' here, did you? Wherever man is, city or country, there will you find his same old weaknesses side by side with his nobler aspirations. You must learn to guard your actions more carefully than your thoughts."

"What would you advise me to do?" she asked seriously. She felt a happiness in his protecting interest in her welfare.

"Get rid of those fanatic Mormons first thing to-morrow, and laugh off the rumor that they are your friends."

"Oh, but I have asked them to stay for a week and thoroughly explain their beliefs to me. They claim they can give me proof of their doctrines from the Bible. They're real tired, too. Their visit would do us mutual good."

"You don't mean you have planned such a thing with strangers—and men that are talked about as they are!" replied Mr. Soffy with real concern. "Why, you haven't the least idea what people will say of you."

"Is the world so evil-minded?" returned Venna. "Then of what value is the world's opinion? What would you think of me, Mr. Soffy?"

Mr. Soffy smiled with pleasure. "Does my opinion count more than the world's? I would say, you're the truest-hearted little woman in town!"

"I only care for the opinion of good people—like you," she added softly.

"Thank you," he returned seriously.

There was a moment's silence in which both were very thoughtful.

At last Venna said quietly, "Thank you for your advice, Mr. Soffy. It was well meant. But I wish to hear what these good young men have to say. I shall keep them with me one week, regardless of Ashfield. Come, we will not walk more to-night. See, the clouds are beginning to come already. As you say, to-morrow may bring a storm."

They walked back to the house in silence again. Mr. Soffy was anxious to speak of his love to her. It was an ideal night, an ideal time. But something held him back. He was not sure of her love yet. She was too friendly, too frank. He might spoil it all. It was hard to wait, but he must be sure. So he reached the little white gate without the avowal he had intended.

Frankly she held out her hand to him.

"Good-night, Mr. Soffy. Call and see my friends, won't you?" she said, smiling.

"I certainly will. I'd like to hear them myself. I may step in to-morrow."

"Any excuse was worth while, to see her," he thought.

And so they parted for the night, she with increased admiration for his goodness, and he with increased passion for her beauty and personality.