But here Selina’s torrent of words stopped.

When conversation revived, Hilary, who had been at first half annoyed and half amused, resumed her point seriously.

“I might say that writing isn’t Elizabeth’s week-day work, and that teaching her is not exactly doing my own pleasure; but I won’t creep out of the argument by a quibble.  The question is, What is keeping the Sabbath day ‘holy?’ I say—­and I stick to my opinion—­that it is by making it a day of worship, a rest day—­a cheerful and happy day—­and by doing as much good in it as we can.  And therefore I mean to teach Elizabeth on a Sunday.”

“She’ll never understand it.  She’ll consider it work.”

“And if she did, work is a more religious thing than idleness.  I am sure I often feel that, of the two, I should be less sinful in digging potatoes in my garden, or sitting mending stockings in my parlor, than in keeping Sunday as some people do—­going to church genteelly in my best clothes, eating a huge Sunday dinner, and then nodding over a good book, or taking a regular Sunday nap till bedtime.”

“Hush, child!” said Johanna, reprovingly; for Hilary’s cheeks were red, and her voice angry.  She was taking the hot, youthful part which in its hatred of forms and shams, sometimes leads—­and not seldom led poor Hilary—­a little too far on the other side.  “I think,” Miss Leaf added, “that our business is with ourselves, and not with our neighbors.  Let us keep the Sabbath according to our conscience.  Only, I would take care never to do any thing which jarred against my neighbor’s feelings.  I would, like Paul, ’eat no meat while the world standeth’ rather than ‘make my brother to offend.’ "

Hilary looked in her sister’s sweet, calm face, and the anger died out of her own.

“Shall I give up my academy?” she said, softly.

“No, my love.  It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath day, and teaching a poor ignorant girl to write is an absolute good.  Make her understand that, and you need not be afraid of any harm ensuing.”

“You never will make her understand,” said Selina, sullenly.  “She is only a servant.”

“Nevertheless I’ll try.”

Hilary could not tell how far she succeeded in simplifying to the young servant’s comprehension this great question, involving so many points—­such as the following of the spirit and the letter, the law of duty and the compulsion of love, which, as she spoke, seemed opening out so widely and awfully that she herself involuntarily shrank from it, and wondered that poor finite creatures should, ever presume to squabble about it at all.

But one thing the girl did understand—­her young mistress’s kindness.  She stood watching the delicate little hand that had so patiently guided hers, and now wrote copy after copy for her future benefit.  At last she said—­

“You’re taking a deal o’ trouble wi’ a poor wench, and it’s very kind in a lady like you.”