From Jest to Earnest. Edward Payson Roe

a funny speech for you to make so gravely," said Hemstead. "I fear you are quizzing me. Your missionary lore certainly exceeds mine in regard to the 'committees.' But there will be no emergency in my case, and I should be sorry to have any woman, excellent or otherwise, sacrifice herself for me."

      "I have certainly heard so," said Lottie, positively.

      "I fear you have heard more to the prejudice of missionaries and their works than in their favor," he said somewhat gravely.

      "But I am willing to hear the other side," she whispered in his ear.

      "Now I protest against that," said De Forrest.

      "I'll give you the privilege of whispering to Bel," said Lottie, sweetly.

      "O, thank you," replied De Forrest, with a shrug.

      "You can also help me out," she continued, as the sleigh stopped at Mrs. Marchmont's door.

      As he did so he whispered in her ear, "Capital, Lottie, you are a star actress, and always my bright particular star."

      "Don't be sentimental, Julian," was her only response.

      At this moment Lottie's brother Dan fired a snow-ball that carried off Mr. Hemstead's hat; at which all laughed, and expected to see the young theologian assume a look of offended dignity. He disappointed them by good-naturedly springing out after his hat, and was soon romping with the boy and Mrs. Marchmont's two younger children. This was too tempting to Lottie, who joined the frolic at once.

      Hemstead laughingly allowed himself to be their victim, and skilfully threw great snow-balls so as just to miss them, while they pelted him till he was white, and, as if utterly defeated, he led them a breathless chase up and down the broad path. Their cries and laughter brought half the household to the doors and windows to watch the sport.

      De Forrest ventured down from the piazza, with the thought that he could throw a spiteful ball or two at one he already disliked a little, as well as despised. But Hemstead immediately showed what a self-sacrificing victim he was to Lottie and the children by almost demolishing De Forrest with a huge snow-ball that stung his ear sharply, got down his neck, spoiling his collar, and necessitating such a toilet that he was late for dinner.

      His plight took Lottie out of the field also, for she sank on the lower step of the piazza, her hand upon her side, helpless with laughter.

      Hemstead retreated to a side door, where he shook himself after the manner of a polar bear, and escaped to his room.

CHAPTER VII.

       Table of Contents

      ANOTHER SPELL THAN BEAUTY'S.

      De Forrest tried to laugh at his discomfiture when he appeared at the dinner-table, but he was evidently annoyed and vexed with its author.

      "It was very nice of you, Mr. Hemstead," said Lottie, "to permit youself to be pelted by us. You evidently did not think us worthy of your steel. But I fear you gave Julian a strong compliment."

      "I only returned one of his."

      "But he did not hit you."

      "He meant to. We form our most correct judgment of people sometimes from what they intend, rather than what they do."

      "Well, I thank you for my share of the sport."

      "And I thank you for mine."

      "What occasion have you to thank me, when I almost put your eyes out with snow?"

      "You did not so blind them but that I could see a face aglow with exercise. That made a pleasing contrast to the cold white snow."

      "Frank, Frank, you will make Lottie vain," said Mrs. Marchmont.

       "I did not know that complimenting was permitted to you."

      "That is all right, sister," said Mr. Dimmerly. "That's where he shows his good blood and connection with an old family. He is gallant to the ladies. They can't get that out of him, even at a theological seminary."

      Hemstead's blushing confusion increased the laugh at this speech.

      "O, mother," exclaimed Addie, "we are all going on a frolic to-night. You know that poor, forlorn little minister at Scrub Oaks, who has six children, and gets but six hundred a year? Well, they are going to give him a donation to-night, so a dilapidated pillar of the church told us. We were invited to come, and Lottie wants to go."

      "Very well, my dear, since you and our guests wish it."

      "Now, auntie, that's very sweet of you to answer so," said Lottie. "I want to see the queer, awkward country people who go to such places. They amuse me vastly; don't they you, Mr. Hemstead?"

      "They interest me."

      "O, it wouldn't be proper for you to say 'amuse.'"

      "Nor would it be exactly true."

      "Why, Lottie," said Addie, "you know that ministers only think of people as a sad lot that must be saved."

      "We'll help make a jolly lot there, to-night," said Lottie, with a swift glance at Hemstead's contracting brows. "Moreover, auntie, I want to see what a minister that lives on six hundred a year looks like. We give our pastor ten thousand."

      "You need not go so far for that purpose, Miss Marsden," said

       Hemstead, quietly: "that is all I shall get."

      "What!" she exclaimed, dropping her knife and fork.

      "That, in all probability, will be my salary at first. It may be but five hundred."

      "Is that all they pay you for going out among the border ruffians?"

      "That is the average."

      "I wouldn't go," she said indignantly,

      "You may rest assured I would not, for the money."

      "Frank will change his mind before spring," said his aunt; "or a year at least among the 'border ruffians,' as you call them, will cure him, and he will be glad to take a nice church at the East."

      "What do you say to that, Mr. Hemstead?"

      "Perhaps I would better answer by my actions," he replied.

      "But I can see from the expression of your eyes and mouth a very plain answer to the contrary. Mr. Hemstead, you could be a very stubborn man if you chose."

      "I hope I could be a very resolute one."

      "Yes, so we explain ourselves when we will have our own way. I think Aunt Marchmont's suggestion a very good one."

      "If we go to the donation we shall have to take something," said

       Bel.

      "O, yes," exclaimed Addie; "I am told all sorts of queer things are brought. Let us take the oddest and most outlandish we can think of. Uncle, there is your old blue dresscoat; we will take that for the minister. Wouldn't he look comical preaching in it? And, mother, there is your funny low-necked satin dress that you wore when a young lady. I will take that for his wife."

      "I understand everybody brings pies to a donation," said Harcourt. "I shall be more pious than any of them, and bring over fifty from town this afternoon. I will buy all the bake-shops out, in my zeal—enough to give the parson and all his people the dyspepsia for a month."

      "If he lives on six hundred, nothing could give him the dyspepsia save his own sermons, I imagine," said De Forrest. "My young lady friends have half filled one of my bureau drawers with smoking-caps. I have one with me, and will give it to the minister."

      "You vain fellow," laughed Lottie. "I never gave you one."

      "Rest assured, no minister—even were he a minister to the Court of St. James—should get it,