"It isn't _right_" she cried vehemently; "and Will oughtn't to have gone;
but he never will withstand his father."
All day she lived on the hope that something might happen to bring him
back at night; but before sundown Captain Rheid drove triumphantly into
his own yard, shouting out to his wife in the kitchen doorway that the
_Linnet_ was well on her way.
At dusk, Linnet's lonely time, Marjorie stepped softly through the entry
and stood beside her.
"O, Marjorie! I'm _so_ glad," she exclaimed, between laughing and crying.
"I've had a miserable day."
"Didn't you know I would come?"
"How bright you look!" said Linnet, looking up into the changed face; for
Marjorie's trouble was all gone, there was a happy tremor about the lips,
and peace was shining in her eyes.
"I _am_ bright."
"What has happened to you?"
"I can tell you about it now. I have been troubled--more than troubled,
almost in despair--because I could not feel that I was a Christian. I
thought I was all the more wicked because I professed to be one. And
to-day it is all gone--the trouble. And in such a simple way. As I was
coming out of Sunday school I overheard somebody say to Mrs. Rich, 'I
know I'm not a Christian.' 'Then,' said Mrs. Rich, 'I'd begin this very
hour to be one, if I were you.' And it flashed over me why need I bemoan
myself any longer; why not begin this very hour; _and I did._"
"I'm very glad," said Linnet, in her simple, hearty way. "I never had
anything like that on my mind, and I know it must be dreadful.
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