his voice quite pleasant. There are human instruments, which always
seem to have a false note, and Antony's had this peculiarity.

"Antony, I have a letter from Richard and Phyllis Fontaine. They are
going to visit us this summer."

"I am delighted. Life is dreadfully dull here, with nothing to do."

"Come to the parlor, and I will give you a cup of tea, and read you
cousin Phyllis's letter."

The squire had never thought of asking Elizabeth why she supposed her
cousins to be Methodists. Antony seized at once upon the point in the
letter which regarded it.

"They are sailing with Bishop Elliott, and will remain until September,
in order to allow the Bishop to attend Conference; what does that mean,
Elizabeth?"

"I suppose it means they are Methodists."

The young man was silent a moment, and then he replied, emphatically,
"I am very glad of it."

"How can you say so, Antony? And there is the rector, and the
Elthams--"

"I was thinking of the Hallams. After a thousand years of stagnation
one ought to welcome a ripple of life. A Methodist isn't asleep. I
have often felt inclined to drop into their chapel as I passed it.