on the rug at her feet, one arm in her lap, and his head on his arm, while she stroked his hair, and told him all sorts of bright, merry stories about the places and people that she had seen. For Bess had travelled through nearly every state in the Union, and had observed and remembered much that she had seen, so, with the flashes of fun and bits of pathos that she knew so well how to give to her descriptions, she was no mean story-teller.
But the three days were soon over, and on Sunday, the last day of Fred’s visit, the gathering twilight found him pacing up and down the room with Bess, now talking, now taking a few turns in silence.
Suddenly Bess said,—
“Fred, you are going to church with me to-night.”
“Oh, no, Miss Bess! Please not!”
“Yes, Fred, I want you to escort me down. It is ever so long since you have heard the boys sing, and you have no idea how they have improved. We will go early, if you say so, and get all settled before many people get there, but I want you to go with me. The service is
