Because of Stephen by Grace Livingston Hill

had asked for such guidance. If it was of God, it would be crowned with some sort of success. She would be made to understand that it was right. If it was her own faulty waywardness, it would fail. It surely could do no harm to try to have a Sunday-school class of any of Stephen's friends who would come; and, if they refused or laughed at her, why, then she could sing. The gospel could always be sung , where no one would listen to it in other form. It would be a question of winning her brother over, and that might be difficult.
    Stay! Why need she tell him? Why not take them all by guile, and make the afternoon so delightful to them that they would want to come again? Could she?
    Her breath came quickly as the idea began to assume practical proportions and she perceived that she was really going to carry it out. She had ever a spirit of strong convictions and impulsive fancies; else she would have stopped right here. But perhaps in saying that too little weight is given to the fact that she had given herself up to the guidance of One wiser than herself.
    Just before the stars paled in the eastern sky she lay down to rest, her mind made up, and her heart at peace. As for Philip's words of warning, she had forgotten them entirely. Philip she did not understand, but neither did he understand her.
    The two young men were both surprised the next morning when she told them, quietly enough, that she would be glad to help them entertain their friends on Sunday afternoon, provided they would allow her to carry out her own plans. She thought she could promise them a pleasant time, and would they trust her for the rest?
    It was very sweetly said, and her dainty morning gown, a touch of sea-shell pink in it this time that made her look like an arbutus blossom in the greenery of the room, sat about her so triml y that her brother could but ad mire her as he watched her put the sugar into his coffee.
    It must b e admitted that Stephen was sur prised, but he was too gay himself to realize fully the depth of earnestness in any one else; so he concluded that Margaret had decided to let her long-faced ideas go, and have a good time while she was here; and he resolved to help her on with it. She was certainly a beauty. He was glad she had come.
    But Philip's face darkened, and the little he ate was quickly dispatched . After that he ex cused himself, and went out to the barn. He was angry with Margaret, and he was troubled for her. He knew better than she what she was bringing upon herself; moreover, her brother, who should have been a better protector of so precious a sister, knew even better than he. Why did not Stephen see, and stop it?
    But Philip foresaw that matters had gone too far for it to be wise in him to say a word to Stephen. Former experience had taught him that Stephen took refuge from pointed attacks in flight to his companions in the village, which always ended in something worse.
    Philip was so angry that after he had d one all the work about the barn yard that was ready for him he concluded to take himself away for a while. There was enough in the house to keep Stephen busy and interested for the day. The fear that had made him keep guard ever since the arrival of Margaret Halstead was for the time dominated by his anger at both brother and sister; and he took his revenge in going off across the country many miles on a piece of business connected with a sale of cattle which he had proposed to make for some time, but had put off from week to week.
    He did not stop to explain to the household except in a sentence or two, and then he was off. Margaret noticed the hauteur in his tones as he announced his departure at the door, but so full was she of her plans for Sunday that she took little heed of it. It did not matter much about Philip anyway. He was only an outsider, and, besides, he would feel differently, perhaps, when Sunday came.
    Philip s anger boiled within him, and grew higher and hotter as he put the miles between