"All right, Salome; but you know I am not fond of preaching."
"Dear Ray," said Salome earnestly, "I am sure I am not fit to preach to you or any one, only I do feel sure that if we ask God to keep us safe, He hears us, and will not forsake us, if we are really sorry, and determined to try to please Him."
"These are old-fashioned notions, Sal," said Raymond carelessly; "but you are a good little thing, and I daresay it would be better for me if I were more like you."
That was all Salome could get out of Raymond; and, chilled and disappointed, she felt, as many of us have felt, that it was no use trying to help people like Raymond, still less to expect anything from them.
But for the present there was a calm. Raymond went off in good time to Harstone. He spent the evening at home; and his mother was quite cheered about him, saying several times to Salome, "I thought, for my sake, Raymond would turn over a new leaf."
Meantime Reginald worked hard at his papers, and was steadfast in his work, fighting his way in the form, step by step, always a hard matter at a new school for the first term.
Salome saw him going on diligently and steadily, and longed for a word of praise for him. But it often happens that there is more joy in the mother's heart over signs of amendment in one child who has given her trouble and anxiety than in the persistent well-doing of those who never cause her uneasiness. This is nothing new. Was it not so in the days when divine lips told the story of the lost piece of silver and of the wandering sheep? Will it not be so to the end of time?
Salome lived for the next few days in constant excitement about the postman. Every time his knock was heard her heart would give an answering thump, and she would go out into the passage to take the letters. But Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow made no sign. A week passed; and one afternoon, when she went out to meet the postman, and eagerly took the letters from his hand, she came suddenly on Mrs. Atherton.
The rosy flush and the excitement of her manner were not lost on Mrs. Atherton, nor that she hastily thrust one letter into her pocket, and answered Mrs. Atherton's question as to whether she would like to see the Review she had brought in a confused manner, not even asking her to come in, and standing with Ada's foreign letter in her hand, twisting it nervously in her fingers.
"Shall I come in and see Mrs. Wilton?" Mrs. Atherton asked.