“Nettie,” asked Mother Hilman in her even, placid tones, “what do you think of that young madcap Wilbur Hill?”

Mother Hilman sat at the kitchen window of her comfortable, country home busy with some household duty, while her daughter was preparing dinner. Mrs. Hilman was one of those fortunate souls whose spirit is like the calm, unruffled sea. She had a trust in God and a love for mankind that kept her heart continually at peace. And her question now was spoken in tones much more kind and benevolent than her words. Nettie already had gray hairs about her temples, so answered her mother’s question without any maidenly embarrassment. “I think him more likable than reliable.”

“I think so. I do like the boy, yet he is one to make a good mother worry. How he reverences his mother’s memory! It seems too bad that she had to be taken from him right when a boy needs a mother the most. She must have been a good woman. I should like to meet the brother of Will’s he spoke of the other day.”

“Didn’t Will say that his father and the younger children are living in town now?”

“Yes, I believe so. Let us ask him when we see him again about his family, and especially that brother. I believe he would tell us all we wish to know.”

“Will,” said Mother Hilman when again she had opportunity to speak to her neighbor’s hired boy, “Nettie and I have been speaking about your family. Did we understand you to say that your father and the children are living in town now?”

“Yes, ma’am. The girls keep house for Father.”

“And where is the brother of whom you spoke the other day?”

“Austin? Oh, he did not come with the rest, but remained at his old job. Father, you know, has not been here a great while, and the children came only a month ago.”

“Who was with the children while your father was away?” asked Mrs. Hilman with keen interest.

“Austin. He is like a mother with them. Austin is a queer fellow, not like another boy I know in the world,” and Will looked up with an expression that invited confidence.

“What makes him so different?”

“It is his religion mostly. He is just like an old person, does not care to go anywhere but to church and Sunday-school. He seems to enjoy staying at home with the children, and does so months at a time. I should die if I had to tie myself down as he does, yet he seems as cheerful as any one,” said Will frankly.

“Perhaps your brother has been converted.”

“Yes, that is the very word he uses,” replied Will. “He tried to tell us all about it, but we could not see through it. He says he does not care for the things of the world, and he means by that that he cares nothing for any of the good times out with the boys. And he certainly acts as if he did not care, and prays and reads his Bible! Says grace at the table like a preacher. I admire his pluck.”

“What church does he belong to?” asked Mother Hilman, her admiration increasing for the boy under discussion.

“That is another of his queer notions. He passed by all the fine churches and hunted up a little baud of people who have a mission on a side street there, and worships with them because he says they are more spiritual.”

“We have such a band of people here.”

“Have you? I will tell Austin when he comes, for he will not stay away from the children long. I think it is the mission that keeps him there for one thing. He hates to leave the people, and he has a Sunday-school class.”

“Do tell him to come. We shall be glad to have him with us.”

“Mrs. Hilman, Austin is here already. I saw him over in town last night and told him about your meeting, and he said to tell you he would be there without fail next Sunday,” said Will, when he saw her a few days later.

When the Hilmans went to church the next Sunday, they saw a strange young man in one of the rear benches. At once they recognized him as a brother of Wilbur Hill. As it was early, not yet time to begin the service, they went to him to make his acquaintance.

“Is this Austin Hill?” asked Mother Hilman in her kindest tones.

“Yes, that is my name,” answered Austin.

“My name is Hilman. Your brother Will has been telling me about you,” she continued in her friendly tones.

“Yes, he told me some of the stuff he has been telling you. It makes me feel foolish. But I am glad to meet you anyway,” said Austin, blushing.

“You have your brother’s confidence and that is a good recommendation for any Christian,” said Mrs. Hilman, pleased with his humility.

“He said you were a believer in spiritual Christianity.”

“Yes, I have been worshiping with a band of spiritual people, though I joined and still have my letter with the church where I was converted.”

“Can you take dinner with us today? If you can, we might talk of some of these things,” said the kind old lady.

“Thank you; I shall be glad to do so,” said Austin, whose heart longed for just the kind, Christian counsel he believed this mother would give.

The past week had been a weary one for Austin. He had found it harder than ever to get along with his father. The conflict between them became more marked all the time. They did not quarrel, but the father let no opportunity pass to give Austin to understand his disapproval of and disdain for his religion, while Austin had to fight continually the feeling of disrespect and contempt for his father. The family was preparing to move to the country. This was welcome news to Austin, who found managing them in town more than he could do. He was almost discouraged with trying to teach the children right. His visit with the Hilman’s was a great pleasure. After the good Sunday dinner Mother Hilman sat down with her young guest in the front room, and they talked of those things that were nearest both their hearts.

“Austin, it affords me much pleasure to see you serving God in your youth. In giving God your service now you are giving him the best of your life, and missing much that is sinful in the world.”

“I thank God,” said Austin, “that I have learned to know him. I do not know what I should do if I did not have him to comfort me, for many things perplex me.”

“I gather from what your brother says of your home-life that your father is not a servant of God.”

“No, my father has never been converted. I long to see him have a change of heart. His influence would be so much better with the children. But he seems to care nothing for the things of God, and it is a vexation to him that I am a Christian.”

“I am sorry that it should be so in your family,” said Mother Hilman, sympathetically, adding, “but of course you will stand true to God; for God makes all such things a help to his children if they will in faith look to him. Read your Bible much, Austin; and pray fervently, both for yourself and for your poor father. If you pray for your father with a loving heart, it will help you to bear more easily the conditions he causes in your home. And I am glad you find such joy in associating with spiritual people; many young men, and young women too for that matter, are led astray by wrong companionships.”

“Mrs. Hilman,” broke in Austin, “I enjoy the association of young people, and the friendship of godly young people is to me sweeter than any other earthly tie. But if the young people are not spiritual, then I find more pleasure in the company of older people who are spiritual, such as I find at the mission we attend. God is very near and dear to me, and so are his children; my only preference for the young people is because of my own youth.”

Mother Hilman noticed the degree of wisdom Austin showed in his conversation. She found him willing to take advice from one older in the Christian way, too, which, as she was wont to say, “means much to new hearts under young heads.”

Thus they talked of the deep personal experiences of grace and peace that are the Christian’s birthright. The things that were said were an uplift to Austin; but it was the sweet influence of love and confidence which helped him most. His heart was sore with contention and strife, and a day in this peaceful home did him good like a medicine.