burned in, by all that had subsequently happened. She had said it
should be her aim and effort to make Cocksmoor a Christian place.
Such a resolve must not pass away lightly; she knew it must be acted
on, but how? What would her present means--one sovereign--effect?
Her fancies, rich and rare, had nearly been forgotten of late, but
she might make them of use in time--in time, and here were hives of
children growing up in heathenism. Suddenly an idea struck her--
Richard, when at home, was a very diligent teacher in the Sunday-
school at Stoneborough, though it was a thankless task, and he was
the only gentleman so engaged, except the two clergymen--the other
male teachers being a formal, grave, little baker, and one or two
monitors.

"Richard," said Ethel, "I'll tell you what. Suppose we were to get
up a Sunday-school at Cocksmoor. We could get a room, and walk there
every Sunday afternoon, and go to church in the evening instead."

He was so confounded by the suddenness of the project, that he did
not answer, till she had time for several exclamations and "Well,
Richard?"

"I cannot tell," he said. "Going to church in the evening would
interfere with tea-time--put out all the house--make the evening
uncomfortable."

"The evenings are horrid now, especially Sundays," said Ethel.

"But missing two more would make them worse for the others."

"Papa is always with Margaret," said Ethel. "We are of no use to