Katy noticed the peculiar tone of his voice, and again there swept over her the same thrill she had felt when Morris first said to her, "And did Katy like this Mr. Cameron?" but so far was she from guessing the truth that she only feared she might have displeased him by what she had said of Uncle Ephraim; and as an unkind word breathed against a dear friend, even to a mutual friend, always leaves a scar, so Katy, though saying nothing ill, still felt that in some way she had wronged her uncle; and the good old man, resting from his hard day's toil, in his accustomed chair, with not only his coat, but his vest and boots cast aside, little guessed what prompted the caresses which Katy bestowed upon him, sitting in his lap and parting lovingly his snowy hair, as if thus she would make amends for any injury done. Little Katy-did he called her, looking fondly into her bright, pretty face, and thinking how terrible it would be to see that face shadowed with pain and care. Somehow, of late, Uncle Ephraim was always thinking of such a calamity as more than possible for Katy, and when that night she knelt beside him, his voice was full of pleading earnestness as he prayed that God would keep them all in safety, and bring to none of them more grief, more suffering, than was necessary to purify them for His own. "Purified by suffering" came involuntarily into Katy's mind as she listened, and then remembered the talk down in the meadow, when she sat on the rock beneath the butternut tree. But Katy was far too thoughtless yet for anything serious to abide with her long; and the world, while it held Wilford Cameron as he seemed to her now, was too full of joy for her to be sad, and so she arose from her knees, thinking only how long it would be before to-morrow noon, wondering if Wilford would surely be there next time their evening prayers were said, and if he would notice Uncle Ephraim's shocking grammar!